Jamie groaned. He looked around at the handful of gypsies and dwarfs finishing up the day's count with tired faces, but alight with greed as they pocketed their own helpings of the powder, more brazenly than before. Seeing them, they looked like utterly wretched creatures living wretched lives; he could not help thinking an end to their misery would be a mercy, not just for those they preyed on in the circus, but for themselves. It was a queasy thought that they would all soon be killed unless he said something, queasy only because it offended the sensibilities; he could not feel any love nor much compassion for these beings. Still . . . "Are we going to let him do it?"
JJ scoffed. "Carny rats? You want to blow your big grand plan to save a bunch of carny rats who'd gut you for a bag if they knew they'd get away with it? Look at these trash bags! See, here is a clown who never had to make tough choices. This one's not even tough. I'll kill 'em, no problem. You don't have to watch."
Jamie looked at his own face staring back scornfully. These freaks took you out of your life, what he'd told Jodi echoed through his mind. What right did they have to do that? And these guys were all willing parts of it; they'd chased after the music box, desperate to twist its handle again. If they weren't willing parts of it, they were little more than nuts and bolts of the circus machinery. "You're right," he said. "Let's get Dean and Jodi and get out of here."
But JJ was far too light-hearted about the business of murder. Jamie knew that he had to learn everything he could about this doppelganger, who could ruin them now with just a few words. Deeper than that, he had to see whether there was something connecting them beyond just physical similarity; did Jamie himself do these kinds of deeds, last time here? Was guilt the reason he'd blocked it all out? He could wait no more. He would recover his hidden memories and find out why he'd hidden them.
***
16. BELOW
Only the acrobats seemed to really give it their all down below, and of course even they could do little to bring in any takings from the pre-milked tricks. What little soul dust fell was very swiftly pinched up and stuffed into pockets, with now and then the odd squabble breaking out over it and turning nasty.
Gonko let it all unfold, enjoying every moment. He only had to contend with an arson attempt at George's trailer; since George hadn't been wise enough to keep from screaming, a few carny rats knew he'd not in fact been stomped to sludge. That small group, scheming for the mythical secret stash for themselves, thankfully kept their mouths shut about it or the whole lot of them would have stampeded to the trailer.
Jamie took Emerald to the fortuneteller, hoping if Shalice wouldn't take her in she could at least advise somewhere safe for her to live. The fortuneteller gave him a strange look when they arrived at her door. "Does anyone know you brought this girl here?" she said.
"No ma'am," said Jamie.
"You're quite sure?"
"Yes, ma'am. Why is it so important?"
Without an answer, Shalice glanced left and right outside, then quickly pulled Emerald within, slamming and locking the door behind them.
Jamie hid Dean in one of the clown bedrooms, unsure where to put him longer term. Maybe he could find Dean a home with the other ticket collectors soon, but that would mean getting embroiled in the deadly politics, etiquette, and factions—all of it a mystery to those locked outside of it.
Jamie paced nervously. "There had better be somewhere to hide you. Problem is, you stand out. No one down here knows you but the clowns, and you can't join us."
"Worst comes to worst, I'll risk making a run for it," Dean said, "whether they find me later or not."
"Trust me, they will find you. And whoever you're with at the time. And in the meantime, you'll have two missing people to explain. Remember when you reported me to the medical authorities? What do you think they're going to do when they turn up at our flat, find blood all over the floor, signs of a struggle, and three people missing?"
"Well, fuck it. I'll take the gates up, bring a whole bunch of cops down here—" Dean sat up so quickly it looked like a live wire had been pressed into him. "That's it! Man, it's so obvious. I know how we can beat these bastards."
"Shh!" Jamie said. He heard voices nearby; they weren't alone.
"You shouldn'ta said it, but, Ruf, it's downright no good to done said that," said Doopy.
"George said it, you big dummy. George, in his trailer, who we were guarding, remember?"
"But you didn't oughta have to call me a big dummy, Ruf! It was soooo mean."
"Go argue with JJ, I'm busy." There was a scuffle out in the living room area, the noise of a fist fight, with both clowns crying out in pain at random intervals filled with comic slapstick sounds. Jamie waited for it to end so he could hear Dean's idea, but it didn't end; the minutes ticked by slowly and still the two clowns battled.
Finally Jamie gave up waiting and took from his pocket the clay pot he'd seen JJ use up on the surface. "What the hell are you doing?" Dean whispered.
Jamie sprinkled some powder on the clay, with no idea how much to use. He lit it with a match (a box of them sat on the bedside table), watched as the grains melted with faint sounds like someone crying out. Did one wish before or after swallowing? He didn't know, so he did both, drinking down the tasteless warm liquid. "I wish for the return of memories I previously wished to be hidden."
Then he sat back, reeling as sights, sounds, feelings, fears, and experiences flashed and flooded into him, knocking him flat. He saw Goshy diving from a rooftop to land face-first into concrete. There was Winston, old, tired, and desperate for it all to end, sad eyes gazing blankly while his chest was jammed with hot coals. He saw Fishboy, the former freak show curator whose work had been futile in the end, his rebellion a mere disruption to the show's smooth running for a brief time, just a blink in its ancient history. He saw that what he had just melted down and drank was made of human souls—divine, pure things beyond this sad world, trapped here then ripped out of unknowing people like meat from their bodies. And he knew the moment of fear, weakness, and exhaustion that had made him blast all this from memory. There was Kurt—huge, howling, and inhuman—trampling down lives like fruit being squashed, biting, shivering the turf with his footfalls and his roar.
But most of all, he saw JJ. JJ, who was now his "pal" and comrade, drenching their shared body in murdered blood, killing for fun, for the rush of it. No wonder Gonko had brought JJ in on the task of killing those above; JJ would do it gladly. JJ who "just wanted his own body," whose idea of a joke was to stand above Jamie with an axe raised, murder on his face . . .
Dean was shaking his shoulder, had probably been doing so for many minutes. He looked worried. In the other room, Doopy and Rufshod still grappled and slapped each other. "What is it?" said Dean.
"We got a big problem." Jamie swallowed what felt like a brick sinking down his belly. "JJ. My God, I should have done this a lot sooner."
"What about him? He's doing okay so far. The music box, remember?"
"Oh, I remember all right." Jamie shook his head. Where to start? At least he remembered one useful thing: the place Fishboy and his rebellion used to go and meet. There was a fence down an alley with the board that came loose, a thin ledge behind it, and a platform stretched out over a long drop to nowhere. A hiding spot where none would see them. He gestured for Dean to follow.
Before they'd left the room, the tarp in the corner moved. It had been dead still til now, with not even the faintest rustle, but now Jamie lifted its bottom an inch or two and saw the red clown shoes beneath. He yanked the tarp off, and screamed. Goshy stared out with one wide bloodshot eye, the other slitted like a lizard's. His mouth peeled back into bunches of ringed flesh. A burbling whine spilled out: "Oo, ngh, eee." He spun toward the door, missed it by several meters, and walked face first into a crunched hole of plaster, screaming all the while.