•
"Excuse me, just wondering if I might have your autograph?" said Dean, extending the sack to the acrobats. They were flattered; it was the first time anyone had asked such a thing, and in truth, this was long overdue. Dean got a good shot of them all examining the sack between the three of them, slightly puzzled that such a thing would hold such value for this (rather attractive) fan. The camera's light fired like a gun's muzzle flash (only adding to the acrobats' excitement), and Jamie had to admire Dean's ruthlessness—there was no one in this circus he'd extend any mercy to, if he had his way.
Dean and Jamie left them to preen amongst themselves. Claudius said, "It's like all our hard work has paid off. Finally, some recognition."
Mugabo snarled and growled at the same request, sensing a trap. "Treek!" he bellowed, wagging a long finger. "You treek me! Spill it! What now? For truth!"
Dean backed up, not sure what to say. Jamie jumped in. "All right, sir, you saw through us. The truth is, we need the advice of a great mystic. We believe this sack has been cursed, bringing its bearer bad luck. Can you lend us your expertise?"
"The day I help clown, is the day of not help at all!" Mugabo raged. He grabbed the sack and shook it menacingly. "Take you stink sack, take ever thing and run, opposite!" The camera flashed and Dean got a good shot of Mugabo, sack in hand and teeth bared, but they had to sprint away as ozone filled the air—the Polaroid flash was interpreted as some kind of attack. They made it out as lightning struck within the tent, after which the magician collapsed, weeping.
The lion tamer—a diminutive, miserable-looking man with a curled black moustache and sad drooping eyes—was having dinner with his tiger, which was remarkably adept with a knife and fork. It was clear he'd not believe the autograph hunting story for a second, so Jamie (ignoring again Gonko's directive to stay hidden) said, "Sir, sorry to trouble you, but I have OCD. I need you to hold this sack for the count of three or I will be unable to bathe this week, for fear the water may turn to acid."
"No one wants that," sighed the lion tamer, getting slowly to his feet. He opened the empty sack, glanced in, which made a nice picture. "Terrible condition," he said, handing it back. "Best of luck to you, young man."
They left, not without a touch of remorse on Jamie's part—both the lion tamer and the acrobats seemed halfway decent sorts. "Now we have to talk about JJ," Jamie said. "I've got a really bad feeling he's going to give us up."
"So, do you have the balls to take him out, or not?" said Dean.
"It's not that so much. It's that I'm not sure. He's already helped me out a few times. And if we do this thing tomorrow, maybe we can get it done before he turns on us."
"Jamie, this is our one and only chance at this. We will probably die doing it, win or lose, and no I won't tell you yet, just in case something weird happens to you and they make you talk. What I have in mind, he'd be useful for, but not essential. You tell me, is he a risk or an ally?"
"Both, it seems. I just don't know."
"That means he's a risk. What's your gut tell you?"
"That we're in deep shit either way." Jamie sighed. "He's having a lot of fun with these new rules of Kurt's. I think he's a danger of reappraising how he feels about us at any second."
They both fell quiet as the clown in question appeared up ahead, shouldered his way through some carnies, and ran to them with big goofy knee-lifting strides. "Amigos! You'd better not go back there. Gonko gave me an order to make Dean be dead."
"I wondered about that," said Dean.
JJ took the Polaroids and the sack. "I'll deliver these to our boss, how about it? I'll concoct lies as to Dean being waylaid by someone and needing to dispose of this stuff. Don't you sweat it, trusted comrades. JJ's got your back."
JJ smiled proudly at them, waiting for praise. Jamie tried to hear his gut and warning bells sounded there. "JJ, you've been a great help to us. Come meet us by the loose fence post, near the popcorn seller, out where Fishboy used to meet his gang. There's something we need to show you."
"Sounds like a plan! See you there, pal." JJ bounded off, snapping his fingers as he went, provoking volleys of compliments from carnies along the way (who glowered after him and spat.)
Dean met Jamie's eyes and nodded. It was the safest thing to do, Jamie knew it, but it didn't make the deed sit any easier with him . . . in fact, he felt like the world's biggest shithead.
•
JJ was gone for nearly half an hour, plenty of time for wretched internal debate and self-doubt. Dean watched it all play out inside Jamie without much comment. "Here he comes," said Dean. "Game on. Man up, quickly."
So Jamie manned up, which he found a funny way to describe lying to lure someone into a trap. Nonetheless, he said, "You remember the platform out here? The little path and platform, where Fishboy used to hold meetings?"
"Sure," said JJ, a puppy's eagerness on his face that broke Jamie's heart.
"There's someone out here you should meet." Jamie pulled the loose board back and edged through.
"Okie dokie," said JJ, "although might it be easier if they come here?"
"He can barely walk, this guy," Dean said smoothly, edging through the gap after JJ. "But he's got some stuff to say you need to hear."
"Sure, that passes muster," said JJ, mollified. They climbed through the fence gap, JJ following Jamie. They were a few meters around the jutting dirt ledge, with a drop to oblivion just beyond their shoes. Jamie had his back to the fence. He felt dizzy. JJ faced the other way, his belly to the fence. The main danger, of course, was JJ grabbing hold of him as he went down. It would need to be quick, and yet his hands did not want to obey their orders. Here they were now, at the thinnest part of the turf ledge, the very spot
he had in mind. It had to be now, but he couldn't . . .
"Go!" Dean screamed, startling Jamie so much he almost fell himself. "do it!"
He did it. One hard pull at the back of JJ's collar, then quickly shuffling to his right, as far out of reach as he could get. JJ stood poised for moment on the points of his toes, arms windmilling fast in a doomed quest for balance. "See ya later, fucker," said Dean.
JJ toppled forward. "I guess disappointment and surprise are what I feel the most," he said as he dropped, arms and legs thrashing just like a swimmer. They watched him fall, watched as he blinked out of sight after around four seconds, swallowed by nothingness.
"Did you have to say that to him?" Jamie said. "I mean, did you really?"
"It'll be the least of his problems," Dean said, heading back toward the entrance. "Pardon me if I'm not the nicest guy to know right now. I've been through a lot."
There was just the scuff of their feet on the flat turf, and the ripping sound of clothes scraping the fence boards for a while. Dean said, "Just a random thought here, but . . . you've seen anyone jump or be pushed off the edge before?"
"Uh, no. Why?"
"Well . . . where's the drop actually lead? How do you know it actually goes anywhere? I mean, he didn't keep falling like I expected. He fell a little then . . . poof, vanished. Kind of weird."
"Guess it was. You suggesting that void might be some kind of illusion?"
•
They heard the noise at about that second as JJ crashed through a caravan roof, punching a neat JJ-shaped hole in it as he plunged through to the mattress of a bed below. "Motherfuckers!" his scream reached Dean and Jamie as they put the fence post back in place.
"Hide," said Dean.
"Hide where? Shit! We can't hide out there anymore. And I can't hide in the goddamn clown tent. We're screwed. Completely. There's nowhere to go."
They looked at each other for a second in total helplessness before the idea came to them both at once: "Fortuneteller." They ran.