Desperate By Dusk

by Alexander Salkin

  Simon furrowed his brow. Some kind of animatronic? Seemed rather articulate for such a poor carnival. And the thing was just set on a card table so there was no place to hide a person underneath. Remote controlled maybe? Surely one of the sideshow performers had access to a hidden camera and device nearby. Probably was having a good laugh about it, too.

  "What's... the story with this thing? Who's Mim?" Ramone asked, not sure what to make of it.

  "Isn't that the beauty of it, sir? We don't know. I'm not even sure Mim is the original name, but it's what we been going with. Maybe Mim was some cursed poor soul, punished by the devil. Maybe he was a sorcerer who sought immortality and by some quirk only his magic casting hands made the cut. Maybe his hand was simply possessed and cut itself free of its earthly bindings. As far as I know, Mim's hand has always been with the carnival. I believe the original owner of our organization, Mr. Barlowe, won it in a card game back in the nineteen twenties from a Prussian merchant."

  Simon stared at the contorting hand which continued to occasionally make obscenities within its murky glass prison. If this was a prop, he had to concede it was a good one because the hair was standing on the back of his neck. Not so much that he was afraid of it, although it would certainly unsettle him to no end if it got loose and ran around like The Thing from the Addams Family. Maybe Little Bertha just managed to reach him well enough with her description... surely it was a gag of some kind, but enough lingered in his mind to cause some moments of second guessing. That somehow, someway, that hand was a genuine anomaly under the sun that he really could not explain, and he would have to content himself with the knowledge that it was perhaps more real than he was. It was a very weird feeling.

  There was a faint and distant ding coming from the room where Little Bertha originally waddled from. "Oh! Well, you'll have to excuse me but it appears my pizza rolls are ready. If you have any more questions, feel free to drop on by. My roomie and I can tell you about the other displays if you like, but I think they're pretty self explanatory. And while you're here, why not check out our fellow carnies? In particular, I recommend Norbert," she said, eyeing Simon with a wink.

  "Oh?" Simon muttered. "Right, it said on our ticket he was the world's fattest palm reader or something? Eh, I dunno... I'm not seeing the exact appeal there."

  She chuckled, stroking her garish beard thoughtfully. "Honey, some people get big because they have unfavorable genetics, like my roommate Helga. Some are just hungry, jolly types... like myself. I like my chicken parm- that's who I am. Norbert? He's a man of knowledge, much more than our own. He has to contain it somewhere."

  Ramone made a face at this point, looking up from Mim's hand. "That's just silly. The guy is overweight because he's a rocket scientist? What does one have to do with the other?"

  Little Bertha rolled her eyes back at him, giving a slight shrug and a smile to match. "Well, you can see him for yourself. Gentlemen? Flavor awaits. I bid you a fine adieu."

  Ramone had a disinterested expression written all over the chisel of his face as he turned back to Simon. "Well, this hand is pretty cool and all, but that seemed like an anticlimactic way to go about things. I don't see what the gag is there. Pudgy because he's smart? The heck does that even mean?" he asked rhetorically.

  "I've no idea, man." Simon more or less agreed with Ramone about how it was presented, but part of him was at least a little curious. "Well... I can check it out, I guess. I don't get what she meant by all of that either, but she did at least try to put on a tour for us. And she told some good stories. I'll let you know how it goes."

  "All right. I'll catch up with you. I think I'm gonna grab a coffee while I'm here and maybe see what else is around," Ramone said.

  "Meet you at the car if I don't catch you sooner then," Simon said with a wave.

  After Ramone left, Simon peered at the cranky gesturing hand once more, shook his head, and made his way down the big top's canvas hallway. There were several more attractions, largely what was mentioned on the free ticket, including that snake charmer Ramone was thinking about earlier. Simon, however, went to the end and made a quick turn to find Norbert's rather modest signage staring him in the face.

  The room was barely blocked by more than a large swath of candy stripe material for a door. He could tell the inside was well lit. Maybe Norbert knew about Mim's hand, assuming a carnie would explain the magic behind one of their fellow's gimmicks.

  Ducking in past the canvas barrier, Simon gradually slowed to a stop. The room was decorated in numerous Persian rugs and pillows, like some improvised scene from Arabian Nights. Incense burned freely and abundantly, filling his nostrils with an unprecedented amount of sandalwood. And a beautiful large hookah containing swirling reddish smoke sat in the middle of the room, unused. Nearby and seated atop either a very large cushion or a series of mattresses was the largest man he'd ever seen in his life.

  Norbert wasn't merely big, he was huge in all ways. He was heavily obese looking, with small, useless looking legs curled in front of him in a simple lotus position. He was completely hairless and his eyes were shut, practically hidden within the folds of his brow. And he was a goliath in size, easily clearing seven or more feet in height. It also wasn't clear if he was wearing anything else beyond a snappy red fez hat with a gold tassel dangling down one side, not that anything else could show with all that bulk. As for the fez, it looked like it could have been a giant's thimble.

  "Simon," came a soft even voice from the girthy man. "I wasn't sure you'd come."

  The smaller sideburned visitor gave a double take, just soaking it all in. "You... how did you know my name?"

  Norbert smiled gently, putting his fingers together in a meditative pose in front of him. At least his arms weren't as short as his legs, but it still seemed unbelievable that he could make his fingers even touch in the first place. "You come from an auspicious little town... does that really surprise you?" It sounded like a playful jest.

  "Well... yeah. I guess someone could have overheard me earlier and told you-"

  "That sort of suspiciousness is more appropriate for your friend in the Fix-It shop, don't you think? I was under the impression you were more the neutral, curious type. Was I wrong?"

  Simon scratched his head. There was no way he'd know who Jessie was. So how then? "Are you... psychic?"

  "In a way. Remember, I was not certain you would arrive here. But mainly, I am knowledgeable," he said with a pat of his belly. It jiggled in the wake of the touch. "This town is a very interesting place, Simon. Eclectic would be the word. And it's filled with many interesting people. Some of them win free tickets it seems."

  Simon wasn't sure what to say, but he was very curious now. Norbert's response seemed odd. And alluding to something perhaps, but Simon had no idea as to what that was.

  Norbert, meanwhile, began to undulate his load bearing shoulders and continued. "Let us not speak too vaguely now- the hour is late. Simon, will you hear to what I have to tell you? You may consider it your fortune. I won't even need your palm." Simon stared for a few moments longer and mutely nodded. What was the harm?

  "A good boy you are, Simon. Listen well, for there is much you don't understand and less you know, but you are a wanderer of sorts. You would travel to find out, would you not? Then hear this and decide what truth it holds for you."

  "Outside and in the back of this tent, there is a simple red painted door. Even if you were a color blind man, you couldn't mistake it."

  "Only you may see that door and only for a few minutes more. If you were to enter it... well, you would be free of the rudderless, slow destiny that haunts you. But with the good, so comes the bad. Those men in the black cars you've seen? But the tip of the iceberg."

  Simon officially broke out into an anxious sweat and his heart skipped. Each time Norbert mentioned something he couldn't possibly know, Simon tensed a bit more and listened that much harder. It was true, he didn't feel Jessie's viewpoint weighing on him too strongly at the moment. How
could he explain what he was hearing? "I'm not sure I understand how you know all of this. But if you really are a psychic or some walking encyclopedia... there's so much I want to ask. Well, how about this? That door- what's behind it?"

  Norbert opened his eyes slowly. They were visibly white and vacant. A soft glow seemed to issue behind them. "Therein, lays the mystery, the unknown. Even great Norbert could not say... not that he would either," he stated ominously, slipping into third person for some reason. "As the saying goes, one leads a horse to water, but cannot make him drink. Simon, I cannot tell you if you should or should not go, for it is not my place. But as one who speaks with my volumes, I would simply tell you that it is there, however briefly. All you may know is that it is a door that holds possibilities. A door you wouldn't know is there if you hadn't the fortune to walk to the right place at the right time. You are here."

  "A door..." Simon muttered. "That I wouldn't even be privy to know about if I hadn't received a free ticket. Was that intentional too? Or just more luck?"

  Norbert closed his eyes again and smiled softly. There was no hint of menace in his demeanor. "Simon, what is truth if no one knows about it? Functioning within an empty small room that no one built? If we do not perceive the universe, how will it perceive itself? You ask, is this fate? Kismet? Chance? Sometimes we blow into the pinwheel to make it spin. Sometimes, the wind does. If you only heard of it, you could never really know."

  "I… I don't understand what you mean. Not entirely."

  "Therein lays the point, dear boy. I have said all I can and all that I should. But ask yourself this much: what are you afraid of? Choose, Simon. Dusk is upon us."

  Simon shook his head, boggled. Assuming this wasn't some scam or way to get jumped at a small time carnival, the presence of a gigantic obese man in a fez who seemed to know everything and nothing at once made Simon's head spin. What in the world was even going on?

  Despite the large man's earlier promise to be clear, did he consider none of that to be vague? To Simon, it was a mixture of intrigue and incoherency, as though he’d unwittingly held a conversation with a whimsical character from Alice's Wonderland. "What are you even saying? Is this some kind of gag? I don't get the point of any of it-"

  Glancing up, Norbert was no longer there. Only now there was a bulky statue half wrapped into rough packing paper, tape, and foam. It was humanoid of form but he couldn't get a good look at it with all the protective covering lazily arranged over it. And the room itself wasn't from Arabian Nights. He found himself standing in a supply bay of the tent for the workers to hold various props and tools in. One such rough looking older man in a baseball cap came walking in, holding what looked to be a lunch bag. "You lost? There's no attractions in here, kid."

  Simon twitched and looked around confused. What just happened? He glanced lost at the worker and then around again. "Um... wasn't... Norbert here?"

  "Who? Kid, this is for employees only. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

  "Oh... um, right. Sorry." Simon lowered his head and quickly went back into the hall. He kept thinking the same notion over and over... this made no sense.

  Trying to make logic of things, he returned around the bend to where Mim's hand and Little Bertha were. He could ask her... maybe she wouldn't think he was crazy.

  Unfortunately, things did not improve. Mim's hand wasn't there at all. The display was filled with some grotesque deer fetus in a jar now. Nothing too strange to find outside a taxidermy- and it looked as cheap as everything else around here. Simon shook his head, lingering only a moment longer before running to the bearded woman's chamber.

  "Bertha?? Hey... do you have a minute?"

  A hoarse voice responded instead. A particularly downtrodden looking bearded woman answered, slowly waddling out of a pile of Chinese food containers and pizza boxes she had left next to her. She was much older looking than Bertha and three times as haggard.

  "Huh? Who're you?" she groaned out behind a matting of faded black hair.

  "I was looking for Bertha. You know, Little Bertha? You must be her roommate, Helga. Is she in there?"

  A weird pained expression crossed the beard woman's face, like a mixture of disgust and sadness. "What? Little Bertha? Where'd you hear that?"

  Simon was about to speak out of confusion again, when suddenly the fat bearded woman seized him by the shoulders. "Who told you that name!? Are you playing a joke on me?? You think that's funny?!" She shook him aggressively but slowed as she began to show signs of weeping.

  "Little Bertha..." she repeated in a sickly wheeze. "Oh sweet merciful god, that's exactly what I used to call her. My little baby sister was named Bertha. My poor little sister..." She gradually released her grip and began to cry outright. "That's not fair for you to come here... and mention her. I don't even know you."

  Simon cautiously stepped back. "But... she was right here? My friend and I spoke to her. She mentioned you by name as her roommate! Norbert and... holy fuck, what is going on here?"

  Helga only bawled louder and went to lean against a support post. "I miss my little sister!" she moaned before crying some more. "Go away! I don't know why you get off picking on a down and out woman like me. You're so horrible!"

  "Um... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." Simon winced, shaking his head. He slowly backed away and ran. Things were getting too surreal in a short period of time. He darted out of the sideshow tent, with hoarse trailing words being cried out hysterically over about an 'accident' and a 'well'.

  Quickly emerging from the sideshow tent in a state of bewilderment, he looked back and forth in the softly falling rain. Everything seemed normal, but he couldn't spot wherever Ramone had wandered off to. For a coffee, he could not have gone far out of eyesight since the carnival's features were on one straight path for the most part. Simon thought it might be best if he conferred with his friend. Still...

  There was what Norbert said in all his bulbous majesty. A red door behind the tent, one that would only be there for a short time. What did that mean? What was the relevance? Surely he didn't simply wander into a supply area and start hallucinating. Or so he told himself.

  But what if it was there after all? What if there was something important about it? It seemed unimportant at the time, but Simon noted that when Little Bertha spoke about Norbert, she specifically looked at him. She was certainly there... how else could he have possibly known about Helga's long dead baby sister?

  He stood there in the rain, daydreaming, watching the mud collect around his shoes. This was an auspicious night. And not unlike the incident at the Green Military base, there didn't seem to be any imminent rhyme or reason for what just happened. But it did. And there was a promise of the unknown related to that red door. Or perhaps the hope that lay within.

  CHAPTER 8

  On a more common day, Simon could've simply let it slide. Instead, he might have continued to look for Ramone and seek what guidance his friend could possibly offer. He would rely on anyone else to give him direction before he casually made a decision. But wasn't that the problem, so many times over? Ramone drove to the adventures. Jessie planned them. Simon... just existed, following whatever errant eddy that pulled him one way or another in the sea of life until he hit upon something arguably stable.

  And then, he thought of pretty Vikktorea and her sweet songbird voice. Yes, she stood him up. And yes, he was disappointed; even hurting in the pit of his stomach. But he took one proud moment that day. He stepped up like a man and asked her. Even if she would have said no, there was something tangible he could return home with outside of his own ennui. Only he didn't fully realize it until now.

  Simon took off his shades and put them into his jacket's pocket. He looked back at the sideshow tent with a wolf's vivid blue eyes that he so often hid. He imagined the other side of it with a red door, just sitting there, slowly dissolving. Without warning, he briskly dashed into the wet tree line and made for the back of that candy striped tent. Delusion or real, he would know in mere mom
ents.

  Ramone came back to the sideshow tent and found the lights inside were off. He must have lost track of time. Or perhaps the rain was increasing more than the owners of the carnival would have liked, coupled with poor sales. He had to admit, it wasn't much to speak of. In any event, Simon must have wandered somewhere nearby. His friend was largely good natured, if overly passive. It seemed unlikely Simon would have gone too far.

  He checked around the various stands and rides. He knew Simon was somewhat nostalgic for the happier days of his youth so maybe he was looking at a balloon game lined with garish brightly colored stuffed animals or the tilt-a-whirl. But his sideburned friend with the sunglasses seemed to be nowhere in sight. Ramone even made a quick trek to his car, but there weren’t so much as footprints leading to it now, at least with the rain in mind. In fact, the place was even scarcer of people than before.