Red Circus

by Michelle Al Bitar

  “Jonathan will listen to me.”

  “His father just passed away. Do you really think he’s in the mood for us demanding our rights?”

  “He will understand because I just lost a father too.”

  Mathew remained silent for a good long breath, his eyes welling up again. His trust in her decisions was not strong enough, but at that moment, he knew she was acting out of kindness. He saw that sparkle of determination in her eyes and nodded. Rufus deserved to be mourned properly. If they were not able to say goodbye to the body, they would bid their farewells to the spirit.

  Red and golden walls were greying into the ashen colour of Rufus’s remaining cigarettes.

  Cancer was cured a hundred years ago. People went into a frenzy, purchasing boxes upon boxes of those magical pills and that syrup, a healing potion for the dead. People were healing. Lots were graduating from hospitals, leaving those silver walls to reflect each other. It was only fifty years later, when the company that had released that medicine had crumbled to the ground after a monstrous fight against Caesar Co. The latter had been manufacturing chemo machines for ages. After the company lost the war, nobody heard of the CEOs again. Screams of help echoed on the streets. Hospitals were working massively again. The death rate was rising and cancer became a wide-spread malady yet again. Healing machines were only developed in the West. The government funded Caesar Co. until twenty years later, when the sick would step inside the cell generator, get scanned and given continuous injections for a month. They would return to their families reawakened. The plague only attained the East, and easterners with the right connections would pay billions of dollars to be medicated in the West.

  Two sentinels stood solidly in front of the king’s bureau. To Riley, they only looked like Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

  “Greetings,” she gently said and fought to keep her tears inside.

  “Miss Red, how may we help you?” Tweedledum spoke in a steady unchangeable voice.

  “Is the king inside? May I speak with him?”

  “I’m afraid you cannot. The king is quite busy at the moment,” Tweedledee chimed in, waving her away.

  “It’s necessary to see him. You don’t understand.” She was starting to scream, because if she didn’t let a little of the pressure out, she would break inside.

  “Lady, you ought to step back, or I will have to put you down.”

  “I won’t leave. Just let the king know Riley Red needs to meet with him.”

  “Listen, Red,” Tweedledee started. He had that smug look of a sod upon his face. “The king does not have time for this nonsense. Your emergency can wait.”

  “What is this noise?” The doors suddenly swung open and his bright blue eyes stopped Riley before saying something she would regret.

  “Riley?”

  His gaze froze her in time even though her heart was racing. He already knew of the tragedy that fell upon the circus. He could not bring himself to console her when the last time he saw her, there wasn’t much talking, only tension.

  “My king.” She bowed her head respectfully.

  “Why did you leave her here? If I find her standing outside my office again because of you, I’ll have you serve down at the armoury.” Jonathan was fuming.

  He beckoned for Riley to enter and closed the door shut behind her. The guards remained unmoving though their legs shook with fear.

  “My deepest condolences, my king.” Her eyes were on the floor. Riley didn’t know if she should mention the tragic death of the king or congratulate him on becoming the king, or even throw her request right in the open.

  “Please, take a seat.” He pushed the round chair and cleared the way for her to sit. “Is everything alright?”

  “I don’t believe so, my king.”

  “It’s only us. You don’t have to call me by my title.” His voice was kind held no authority for the first time.

  “It is my duty to show respect f—”

  “Riley—”

  “I need to give Rufus a proper burial,” Riley finally burst out.

  “I heard.” Jonathan fidgeted on the little cylinder with what looked like fireflies flying in circles inside. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Don’t.” She tried to make him look at her. It irritated her even more when his attention was elsewhere. “I only need you to give me the chance to bury my dead, mourn him alone, and let you mourn yours in peace.”

  Without much of a second glance, Jonathan passed his hand above the black surface of his new desk. A large projection appeared before him, as if Charles Arnold was present in the same room.

  “My king.” Charles smiled.

  “Inform all the guards on duty near the gate. Riley and her folks”—he looked at her for confirmation and received it in a heartbeat—“might pass to go to the cemetery and pray by Rufus’s body.”

  A shudder snuck all over Riley’s skin.

  “But John… today all must mourn the Great King, your father. There must be no other activity.”

  “Do as I say and don’t give me any counselling when I don’t ask for it.”

  Jonathan passed his hand over the desk in the opposite direction, and Charles’s stunned face suddenly disappeared.

  “Everything is set,” he informed her. “Riley… Where were you during the funeral?”

  Riley’s heart started beating more quickly, but by the look on his face, he was not being hostile nor trying to disorient her.

  “I needed some fresh air,” she lied. “The square was very crowded.”

  Jonathan looked intently at her without elaborating on her answer.

  “I don’t know if Charles informed you of this, but Rufus died during the funeral and two hours later, his body was moved to the cemetery. Everyone tried to look for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

  “It’s difficult to find one person among thousands, my king. The streets were still crowded until moments ago.”

  “You are not like the rest, Riley,” he stated. “From this day on, you can’t get out without my consent and the company of Lord Walter, starting tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re my favourite person in the kingdom at the moment. I am not willing to let that go.”

  A moment of silence reigned between them, until finally Jonathan cleared his throat.

  “You’re good to go.” He cracked a painful smile at Riley, one that she meekly returned.

  “Thank you for your great kindness.” She stood up.

  “Riley, wait.”

  She turned back.

  “I am still your king, but you don’t have to treat me any differently from your people.”

  “It would be the biggest lie if I treated you as if you were ordinary.”

  Mathew led them.

  Riley walked by his side with hunched shoulders.

  Marcus held Charlotte’s hand, embracing the silence of the night and the mourning of nocturnal creatures.

  Marilyn and Flore sniffed continuously, their faces glossy with tears.

  Fay held her cigarette between her thumb and the tip of her index. The cigarette was dying slowly, untouched by Fay’s dark lipstick.

  “Why’s everything so quiet?” She nudged her cigarette, letting the ashes fall on the barren ground.

  The cemetery darkened. The moonlight glimmered against the headstones. Only the burying system remained the same from the Old World since death could not be avoided no matter how much humans aimed to dodge that last bullet.

  “I don’t know. Maybe because it’s a cemetery?” Flore rolled her red eyes.

  “I was not talking about that. Blimey… All the way here, there was no sound. It’s not even that late.”

  “It is forbidden to perform any activity tonight. The king is dead, Fay,” Charlotte reminded her. She leaned in closer to Marcus and nuzzled her head on his neck. Marcus’s frown did not disappear. It only deepened with every step towards the middle of the graveyard.

  “It’s right there.” Math
ew pointed to the far east and walked towards the tombstone, followed by the rest.

  “It’s just all so sudden,” Marilyn wept. “I didn’t know he had cancer. I just thought he looked pale because of old age.”

  “No one saw it comin’.” Mathew swallowed and glared at the stone ahead of him.

  Rufus Gerald Patrick

  2178–2240

  Loving Father of Cirque Et Feu

  Riley stared at the tombstone as well and swallowed. What if Rufus had desired to have on his tombstone “Loving Father” by itself? What if he had always desired to build a family of his own blood, but never got the chance because he had a damned hard life?

  “I don’t even know a thing about him, and now he is gone.” Fay shook her head and for the first time she was about to cry.

  “Rufus led a hard ass life. He deserved more,” Mathew started. “He was one of the few children who were rescued from a Serpent attack and was raised in St. Raphael’s orphanage. He didn’t know his parents and no one claimed him for months.”

  “Oh, how can life be so cruel!” Charlotte cried.

  “Did you know that the Yellow Orphanage claimed him after a while?” Mathew turned to Riley.

  “This bloody place.” She nodded. “I sure as hell am happy it was shut.”

  “Why was it shut?” Flore asked her.

  “It built illegal laboratories that tested new products on children instead of animals. They said it gave them surer results.”

  “That’s horrible,” Marilyn breathed out.

  “Oh,” Mathew chuckled painfully. “Rufus was smarter than that. He memorized the passcodes and managed to escape since he was small and could hardly be seen.”

  “What happened then?” Fay finally took a sip of her cigarette and swallowed the lung killing smoke.

  “A lad named Robert Gatsby found him at the age of thirteen and raised him as his son. He was a famous business man and taught Rufus the secret to success. Then, when he turned seventeen, Rufus saw Robert for the last time. Robert then disappeared and no one knew why.

  “Since then, Rufus tried to keep a low profile for being under age until he turned eighteen and started working in Robert’s company.” Mathew continued then stopped as he felt he was about to vomit.

  “Thirty years later”—Riley held Mathew’s hand and pressed hard on it—“he left to start Cirque Et Feu.”

  “And here we are.” Charlotte finally sniffed and was able to talk again.

  “He may not have raised a family of his own blood, but Rufus is a father to me.” Mathew put a hand around Riley and pulled her in under his arm.

  “I second that,” she said in a low voice, vanquished by grief.

  “And I,” Marilyn and Flore said in unison.

  “And I,” Charlotte returned.

  “And I,” Fay ended it.

  “He should’ve been buried in his own country,” Riley finally said after a minute of silence.

  “Rufus told me he was going to die the same night he told you, Riles,” Mathew told her. “But he made me keep quiet to help everyone focus on the performance and their own shit.”

  “He was such a kind man.” Charlotte wiped the last tears. There was nothing left in her that Marcus held her even closer to him, and they left the gravestone cold and caressed by the icy breeze of winter.

  “I can’t stay here any longer, or I’ll go into depression again.” Fay killed her second cigarette that night with the tip of her shoe and turned to leave as well.

  “Will you take care of us now that Rufus is gone?” Marilyn asked Mathew and Riley, her hand firmly tight around her sister’s. Flore felt her eyes watering again.

  “Of course! We’re always there for you. Don’t ever feel like you’re on your own.” Mathew hugged the girls tightly and kissed each on their cheek.

  “Riley?” Flore looked at her.

  “You already know my answer. We won’t abandon you and Cirque Et Feu is here to stay.” Riley was convincing herself more than the girls. “If not for us, it’s for Rufus’s memory.”

  The girls rushed and embraced her. As odd as she felt while having two identical girls hugging her tightly, she knew that Rufus’s presence remained through the love in that circus. And so, she returned the hug and kissed each one of the girls on their heads.

  “It’s going to be alright,” she assured them in a low voice.

  When the girls left, she and Mathew sat in front of the gravestone, nuzzling under Mathew’s jacket. Everything was happening so fast. It had only been a few months in the castle and all the plagues had taken place at once.

  “Rufus left something for you,” Mathew said, never moving his eyes from the engraved name.

  “What?”

  “Here.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Riley. It was all crumbled but as she opened it, Rufus’s handwriting stood out. “It’s a letter from him. He wrote it not too long ago. Read it and let no one see you. Once you’re done, burn it and return to the castle.”

  Mathew left her with his jacket, sitting alone. He tossed her the small lighter he pickpocketed from Fay and zoomed out into the night.

  Riles,

  I have planned to give you this while I was still alive. I’ve been getting really sick and so I entrusted this letter to Mathew. Don’t let it fall in the wrong hands or else everything goes to ruins.

  You remember Dan? He was the main chef in the castle who leaked information for you about everything happening inside, about every detail you need to know on how to go about in the castle including the blueprint. He resigned from his position and is now spending his retirement on the beach under intense security. Someday, they are going to find him and kill him. He is a phoenix and gave himself for the cause. The Phoenix will help you. You need to trust them and bring peace to Regitum.

  Take care of everyone. Mathew promised to take care of you ‘til his last breath. Don’t let his words go to waste.

  I love you, Riley. Remember that family is not always about kinship.

  Rufus Patrick

  The signature finally dissolved with the tears, leaving large mushy stains on the paper. Riley sniffed and breathed in, letting the frosty air clean her lungs. It didn’t take the fire long before it ate the letter and finally burned it down into a pile of ash, next to the ones from Fay’s cigarettes.

  Chapter 23

  Good morning, Red. Enjoy your breakfast and join your mates in Ward IV. Lord Walter will escort you.

  - Jonathan Freedian

  The letter was neatly folded and hidden inside a small light green envelope. Riley frowned and turned it over several times to check if there was anything she had missed. Her body was exhausted, and her eyes were drooping again. The letter warmed up against her palm as she fell back on the pillow.

  Her nightmares and dreams merged into a dance of a freak show. One moment, she was standing in the middle of the ring and waiting for the imaginary beasts to burst at her. The next, the monsters did not vanish and their mouths tore at her flesh. The applause of the audience was a choir to the sound of the oxen’s roaring. The murder did not hurt her, but she could not move. Everything was happening so quickly and at once, like a movie playing before her eyes without the pause button.

  Riley groaned and dug her nails on the feathered pillow. She was sweating when she woke up. The small paper was crunched inside her hand and her muscles were so tense that they hurt. The ceiling was not that of a cheap room in one of the arenas she was so used perform in. It was ornamented with rubies and gemstones.

  Riley tried to divert her attention from everything around her, and it fell on the forgotten paper in her hand. Jonathan had been incredibly understanding the night before. He respected Rufus and empathized with her over losing a parent. The difference was that he became a king. And what became of her? She was forced to perform for a TV show she didn’t even want, a day after she lost the closest person to her.

  A loud groan escaped her as she sat straight and slapped herse
lf a few times. She wished her mind would stop running marathons ever since she climbed out of her dreams. Jonathan must have been friendly with her mates as well.

  After thirty minutes of searching for Ward IV, she finally learned that it was the fourth tower. The blueprint the chef provided her with was an old one when towers were called towers. The lift outside Ward IV took her to the last floor which was the fortieth.

  Upon entering, Riley’s breath was caught in her throat. The room was larger than it looked like from outside. It was not magic. It was a visual trick. The walls surrounding the stage were not something that limited the vision of the performers nor the audience watching behind the screen. They turned into wide landscapes that at some point turned into Wonderland, then Neverland, then a magical place she once read about in a book she could not remember.

  The moon was slowly moving beneath her feet and illuminating the entire room. Riley looked around her. The room made her feel as if she were in space. The stars were passing slowly beside her, and no house was built on the moon. It was still the virgin moon it was a hundred years ago. Her legs were barely touching the ground. She was jumping forward on slow motion towards Mathew who was standing at the end of the room with a reviser in his hand.

  Shimmering strings dropped from the endless ceiling. Riley was about to move to avoid it, but the strings never touched her. It was all like a dream. By the time she reached Mathew, the blackness was taking over with blue rain that soon turned into a blue sky where pink candy clouds floated.

  “What the bloody hell is that?!” she asked him looking around.

  “Visual effects to add to our performance,” he answered briefly.

  Riley looked around one more time when gravity returned and everyone was visible. The team was all there. Their faces were dim and full of sorrow for the loss. None seemed in the mood to perform, and neither was Riley.

  There were cameras on one side. Behind them, a set of chairs were fixed and some of them were filled. Men and women sat there staring at a series of screens in front of them. Their eyes moved in an inhuman speed as if they were reading one thousand words per second.