by Sarah Noffke
The ringmaster had been dead for twelve long hours and still his body lay on the floor of his trailer; everything was how it had been when he died. Everyone knew that Dave didn’t exit his trailer until nine each morning. It was only after he’d meditated, eaten a breakfast he prepared for himself, and fashioned his gloves that he stepped out of the trailer with a wide smile, greeting the open air and the members of Vagabond Circus. When his round face didn’t pop out of the trailer at its normal hour, Titus knew his time was limited. People would start to wonder. They would come looking for the ringmaster—Titus knew this. Dave’s presence was the sun to Vagabond Circus. His round happy face started each day for most. And his presence marked hope and growth and light. And now he was dead. It was like the sun had burned out for Vagabond Circus. How would its crops grow without their ringmaster to shine on them?
At ten past the hour people began looking around, wondering if Dave had snuck past them. But Dave wasn’t the sneaking type. He bounded out into open spaces welcoming a new experience and all the magic that a new day brought. When Dave Raydon entered a space, people knew it. Felt it. Things shifted. Usually people’s demeanors shifted too. Even Sunshine, the girl with an affliction to smiling, softened in Dave’s presence. He was a person who brought goodness to everything and everyone. “How may I serve to bring more love?” was the mantra he practiced during his daily meditations. And it’s how he lived his life, and his life was one that did make the world better.
But Dr. Raydon was dead now. He wouldn’t be springing out of his trailer or greeting the children who were playing in Fanny’s area with open arms. The caregiver hurried over now to Titus, who stood between his own trailer and Dave’s. The creative director’s tentative eyes shifted between the various onlookers, Dave’s door, and the phone in his hand. Titus was paralyzed, unsure which thing to do first: tell the circus or call the authorities. He was the sole person remaining at Vagabond Circus who knew the fate of the ringmaster. And what happened next was his decision. This was his circus now.
Fanny regarded him for a long moment, her fist on her meaty hips. “Titus, why don’t you relieve some of your obvious stress and tell me what in God’s name is going on? Where is Dave?” she said, motioning to the trailer door, her voice a hush. “And why do you look so troubled?”
He tucked the phone in his jeans pocket. “Fanny, we need to call an all-circus meeting. Have everyone meet me in the big top in five minutes.”
Chapter Two
Finley had no trouble keeping up with Zuma as she raced to the other side of the circus campgrounds. He still stayed a pace behind her, not sure where she was headed. As soon as he agreed to take her to Knight’s compound she turned for the door, hardly giving him a chance to slip on his sneakers and grab his jacket.
Now, after running for the past few minutes, Zuma stopped suddenly, staring blankly at the rows and rows of trailers and semis that made up sleeper row.
“Where the hell is it?” she said through tattered breaths.
Finley stopped by her side. “Where’s what?” he said, looking at her. Zuma’s blonde and pink hair was corralled neatly behind her petite ears, but her face was a wild mix of emotions.
She turned, giving him a repugnant look. The heat was still there between them, or at least Finley wanted to imagine that it was, that draw they felt to each, that power they had when together. But he did have to admit that smothering it was a resentment so heavy he never thought he could break through. He’d allowed Zuma in his head, something he’d never done before, and still she hated him. And Finley, in truth, hated himself now. It was his fault that Dave was dead. He hadn’t killed him and yet he’d allowed it to happen. But how could that have been the result when his intention was to protect the ringmaster with his very life?
“My car,” Zuma said in response to his question, her words terse. “I need to find my car, but I don’t know where it is here.” She usually drove her RV from location to location. And Dave had the cars loaded and shipped so they were ready for the employees who owned them if they cared to drive. Zuma usually never drove her car. Actually she hardly ever found a reason to leave Vagabond Circus. It was her preferred place to reside. Wherever the big top was, was where she wanted to be.
“Oh,” Finley said, a new confidence slipping into his voice. “This way.” And he took off down a narrow row of semis. Before he had officially started as an acrobat, he’d spent a few weeks dream traveling to Vagabond Circus to spy on its members and try to determine how he could protect Dave. During that time Finley learned the various parts of the Vagabond Circus grounds that didn’t change greatly between locations. The teal blue and neon green big top was always set up on the north end. Performer trailers on the east side. The food truck and recreational area on the west. And the crew members’ sleeper row and extra vehicles at the south end. It made sense to him that Zuma wouldn’t know where her car was parked since she probably had no reason to visit sleeper row, for as open as Vagabond Circus was it still had lines drawn between crew and performers. Such was the way of life. Always full of status boundaries.
Finley felt Zuma at his back as they hurried through the dark rows. Crew members were filing out of their sleeping quarters, most lighting up as they caught site of Zuma. She kept her head low and her face stone. The acrobat didn’t like ignoring the people who called out to her, some waving to or approaching her, but she couldn’t face anyone who didn’t know the news. It felt like Dave’s death was about to make her explode. Zuma couldn’t look at the ignorant and hide the pain in her eyes and therefore she looked at no one directly.
“Ms. Zanders, I-I-I got a present for you,” Chuck from rig crew called to her as she rushed by.
“Thanks, but later. I got to go,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even.
Finley, sensing Zuma’s vulnerable state and her need to get away, then picked up his pace and immediately she saw the gap widen between them. He felt her absence at once and turned, realizing she couldn’t keep up with him due to his super speed. Finley doubled back and grabbed her wrist. Although Zuma sensed him reaching for her due to her combat gift she had allowed it.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, half-dragging her through the last bit of trailers.
The sun drenched them as they exited the darkened row. In the unmowed pasture sat a single line of parked cars which all belonged to circus members. To Zuma’s surprise, sitting on the hood of a beat-up 1969 teal Chevy pickup was Ian. She hadn’t seen him since the night he read her fortune. Then he’d been wearing a velvet robe. He looked different now in his work clothes, a pair of Dickies and a flannel shirt. But there was also another reason Ian looked different. He looked up at Zuma when she stopped to assess the row of cars, looking for her own. In contrast to the other cheery crew members Ian wore a tragic expression on his round face. He brought it up and looked at Zuma with red eyes.
“You know, don’t you?” she said to Ian, taking three steps in his direction. The broad question hung mysteriously in the air.
But Ian, knowing exactly what Zuma was referring to, nodded his heavy head. His divination and clairvoyance told him the events of the future and usually they weren’t nice events. Ian was cursed with the ability to forecast tragedies.
Zuma then remembered the fortune Ian had read for her before her first show with Finley. He’d looked so tormented afterward. He’d said that there were certain events that had to come to pass. “How long have you known Dave was going to die?” she asked him, feeling Finley at her back.
“A while,” Ian said, his words lisping from his braces-filled mouth. Zuma moved suddenly for Ian, ready to tackle him, but Finley was faster and had her restrained at once, his hands holding her arms. She didn’t know why but she was grateful he had stopped her from attacking Ian. It had been her first instinct with all the guttural emotions running through her. But she looked at Ian now, knowing there had to be more to this. Knowing he wouldn’t have kept this secret without a good reason.
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“Why didn’t you say anything?” she said, tears aching in her throat. “Why didn’t you warn anyone that Dave was in danger?”
“Zuma, I did it for you,” Ian said, burying his curly head in his hands.
Her combat sense told her more about a person than most could know using a lie detector machine. Ian wasn’t lying, but that didn’t make sense. Why would Dave’s death benefit her?
Finley, sensing her resignation and confusion, released her. At once she wanted, needed his arms back around her. But he, like Ian, had betrayed her and Dave and Vagabond Circus for reasons she didn’t understand.
“What does that mean? Why would you allow this to happen for me?” Zuma finally forced out, her eyes on the crew member who she thought was her friend.
Ian brought his thick head out of his hands. He was built like a linebacker but had the demeanor of a five-year-old scared little boy. “There’s so much that you don’t know, part of which is that bad things have to happen sometimes,” Ian said.
“Why? Why would the greatest man I’ve ever known have to die? For me?” Zuma said, astonished she was able to keep her voice down.
“Because it creates a necessary future,” Ian said, and then he slid off the hood of the truck, standing tall. “I will explain, if I get the opportunity, but now you need to get on the road.”
“You know that I’m going after Jack?” she asked.
Ian nodded and Zuma was blown away by how much he saw. She almost understood the burden buried in his eyes.
“You should hurry, but don’t drive through the night. Rest before you enter the compound,” Ian said.
“What?” It was Finley who voiced the question. He was instantly confused how this crew member knew about Knight’s compound. And why was he giving such strange instructions?
Ian turned to him and actually smiled fondly. They’d never met but Ian looked at the acrobat like they shared a lifetime of friendship.
“Tomorrow have a late start, that way you’ll avoid rush hour traffic.” Ian said all this matter-of-factly, as though reading from a manual. “Don’t show up to the compound until afternoon, but don’t delay too much longer after that or Jack will be beyond saving.”
“Ian, stop with this allusive talk. Tell us what we are facing since you obviously know,” Zuma said.
“I’ve done even better than that,” Ian said. “I’ve given you the recipe to succeed on this mission.”
“Please, Ian,” Zuma begged.
Ian took long strides, walking past the two, ignoring her pleas. “Follow my instructions exactly,” he said and then disappeared between the rows of semis.
Chapter Three
The white letters of the signs on the side of I-5 blurred in Jack’s vision as he drove. This had gotten progressively worse over the last hour. He made an impromptu decision and took the next exit for a rest stop. This decision earned him disapproving honks from the drivers behind him who didn’t care for his no blinker or sudden brakes. Jack ignored them, realizing he’d driven over a patch of broken glass on the side of the off-ramp. The last thing he needed was a flat tire.
Once stopped, he checked the tires of Titus’s Prius and they looked all right for the moment. He blew out a breath of relief, enjoying the cool early morning air on his face. Jack had been driving on autopilot through the night. The young acrobat knew better than to push his limits. Even Dream Travelers needed rest. He slid into the back seat and locked the door. One hour of dream travel would serve two purposes: He’d dream travel to Knight’s compound and scout the area so he was prepared tonight when he broke in. And secondly, that one hour of dream travel would reenergize him at least for another twelve hours. Dream travel time, because it used the prefrontal lateral dorsal cortex, could restore the mind in no time. However, the problem was it didn’t have as big an impact on the body, which would become fatigued without sufficient sleep. I’ll sleep whenever this is done, Jack thought. When Knight is dead I’ll sleep.
Chapter Four
Titus didn’t answer Fanny’s questions. The caregiver had wanted to know what the meeting in the big top was about. She demanded he tell her. He couldn’t. He didn’t know how to string together the words “Dave is dead.” And within moments he’d have to somehow deliver those three words to all of Vagabond Circus. If it was Dave announcing Titus’s death he’d have a soothing speech ready. Something that prepared the people who loved him for the news they were about to hear. But Titus wasn’t Dave Raydon. He was the opposite of the well-spoken ringmaster. Titus was one of those people who would rather be dead than speak publicly. But he wasn’t the one who was dead, and he felt remorse for it. I wish it would have been me, he had thought, overwhelmed by the weight of the circus on his shoulders.
When there were no more drifters in the grounds of Vagabond Circus, Titus assumed Fanny and her kids had corralled everyone into the big top. Each step he took in that direction now felt so weighted that he was certain his shoes were leaving large impressions behind in the dirt. Titus paused by the entrance to the tent. He listened to the commotion inside; there were dozens of excited voices within. The Vagabond Circus’s employees were certain that the meeting was called to announce great news. That’s the only reason an all-circus meeting was ever called. There had never really been bad news at Vagabond Circus; well, except in the early years.
“I bet our pay is being increased,” he heard a crew member say.
“None of us need higher pay,” Bill, the circus chef, said. “They cover everything and still pay us on top of that.”
“Are you turning down more money?” the crew person said with a chuckle.
“Do I look insane?” Bill said, the same lightness in his voice.
“Maybe they’re getting rid of the no dating rule,” Oliver said from the back of the tent, an edge of hope in his voice.
“Wouldn’t that be great for you, lover boy,” Sunshine said, no enthusiasm in her voice.
Titus clenched his head between his hands, pressing the heaviness away. With each passing moment the anticipation for good news increased within the big top and yet Titus couldn’t will himself forward. He didn’t know how to proceed without Dave.
For over twenty years Dave and Titus had been friends, best friends. It was Dave who rescued him from his life of monotony. Titus’s wife had divorced him, stating she was tired of living without any zest in her life. Titus would have continued working as the senior accountant for a major motion film agency. And he would have also continued wasting away the days pining for a job as a producer, where he could finally put his creativity to work. He would have lived and died in that accounting job, but Dave, who was abandoning his own unfulfilling career, rescued Titus.
He’d been one of Dave’s patients at his psychiatric practice. And Dave broke a few patient-client rules when he showed up at Titus’s office and insisted that the accountant quit his job and be his creative director of Vagabond Circus. That had been over twenty years ago. And these had been the most fulfilling years of Titus’s life. No, he didn’t have a significant other anymore. No companion like he had when married. But he had the circus. He was alive with creativity. Long gone were the headaches and bouts of depression. Titus was in love with the creative process and that kept him warm at night.
And Dave had been his best friend for two fulfilling decades. There wasn’t a better person in Titus’s life. He was the spark of Vagabond Circus. There was hardly a person who wasn’t extremely endeared to the ringmaster. And he’d chosen Titus to be his creative director and closest friend. But now Dave was dead and not only did Titus have to bear that happiness-ending loss, but now he had to run a circus. He felt like a toddler who’d just been given a prosperous nation to lead. He was doomed. And he wanted to run. That was the last thought he had before he pushed through the flap and trudged into the big top.
Chapter Five
“What do you suppose that was about?” Finley said to Zuma, watching Ian’s retreating back.
She didn�
��t grace him with a look, only said, “I don’t know, but it seems you’re not the only traitor in our midst.”
He allowed his eyes to roll up and catch the sky at this response. Yes, he knew he deserved the insult, but it wasn’t easy to take. And he feared it wasn’t going to be the last one during their long trip together. “So you’re going to ignore his advice then?”
“No,” she said with a bite, obviously irritated by everything that came out of his mouth. “He’s Ian. He’s never wrong. And I can’t afford to ignore his advice.”
“So you trust him even though he knew Dave was going to die and didn’t do anything about it?” Finley asked, unable to keep the hostility out of his voice.
“Yes,” Zuma said simply, scanning the long row of cars in various states of newness in front of her. She set off to the right.
Finley followed at once. “But you don’t trust me?” he asked, the offense rising in his voice.
Zuma spun around and faced him, her expression twisted with anger. The morning light made his dark unkempt hair look lighter. It also caught the angles of his face, making him look rugged with the subtle stubble on his cheeks. She brought her gaze to his eyes and tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed anything about him. Hadn’t really seen him at all. “No, I don’t trust you. I don’t understand why Ian or you hid this information, but I know that Ian is probably trying to protect something bigger here. I think you were just trying to protect yourself by not disclosing who you really were and what you really knew.”