“Well, we got carnival tickets,” Tony said.
45
It was nighttime when we got to the carnival, and it was shiny with lights and metal rides reflecting light. It was so bright you couldn’t see the sky. The air was thick with the smells of hot dogs, cotton candy, and popcorn.
We hadn’t no more than given our tickets and gone inside, when we saw Bad Tiger and Timmy. They didn’t see us. They were across the way, walking. They both looked rough, like they hadn’t changed their clothes in days. They each had a growth of beard, and they had a slump to their walk, like their feet hurt and their souls were no fresher.
Even though I’d been half expecting them to show up, my jaw still dropped. On some level, I think I figured they’d given it all up and we’d never see them again. Or that there wasn’t any chance of us showing up at the same time. But there they were.
They were wandering between gaming stands and stacks of cheap teddy bear prizes. We saw them walk in front of the freak show tent with crude paintings of freaks on the sides, bearded women and pinheads and wolf boys and so on. Barkers were beckoning to them, calling out to “Come and give it a try.” They didn’t break stride. Like us, they were on a mission.
They were going in the opposite direction of Strangler’s trailer, which meant they were using guesswork. After a moment, they passed out of our sight.
I caught Jane’s shoulder, and she said, “Yeah, I saw them.”
Tony said, “I can run around to Strangler’s trailer. I can warn him.”
“You’re nothing but a kid,” Jane said.
“Yeah,” Tony said, “but I’m a kid that can run fast.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than he was gone.
We waited there, nervous as long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. Time went by and the rides circled and swung and dipped and rose, and people yelled and screamed as they did. The carnival ride we were standing next to vibrated like a drunk man about to fall down.
After enough time passed to have planted a crop, harvested it, and sold it on the edge of the street, we saw Tony running toward us. He was all sweated up and he was gasping for air. He stopped in front of us, bent over, and held his side.
“Run all the way there,” he said, “and run all the way back.”
“We can figure that,” Jane said. “What about Strangler?”
“He wasn’t there.”
“Dang it,” Jane said.
And then we heard over a loudspeaker, “Come one, come all! Strangler Nugowski will take on anyone! Prize money twenty-five dollars green American. Come one, come all! Take on Strangler and prove yourself a man! Come one, come all!”
“Oh great,” Jane said. “Bad Tiger and Timmy might as well be wolves and Strangler a pork chop.”
We went swiftly toward the voice that kept repeating the challenge. We finally ended up in a crowd around a boxing ring raised above the ground maybe five feet. There were steps that led up to it, and right then we saw Strangler jerk off his sweatshirt and go up the steps, like any man going off to work. Some people in the crowd cheered, some booed. He tossed the sweatshirt out of the ring and onto the ground.
Pushing through the crowd, we got yelled at, and threatened, and Jane even got pinched. She slapped a man so hard on the side of the head he went to his knees. He looked up at her like such a thing had never occurred to him.
“Keep your hands to yourself, simpleton,” she said, and then we were moving again.
When we finally nudged and shoved our way up to the front of the ring, a man was already in there with Strangler. We tried to get Strangler’s attention, but with the way the crowd was hooting and calling, our words got pushed down by the noise. We might as well have been using sign language.
The man in the ring was as big as Strangler, and younger. He came at Strangler, and Strangler jabbed him with a left, and the man went back a step. Strangler dove and grabbed the man’s legs and hit him in the stomach with his head and took him down. When the man hit the mat, he hit so hard I was a little sick to my stomach. In the next moment, Strangler had the man by the ankle with both hands and had a leg thrown over the man’s knee.
The man actually yelled “Uncle!”
Strangler let him go and stood up. The man got up. The referee took hold of Strangler’s hand, preparing to raise it.
The man was supposed to be through, but he decided to throw a low blow at Strangler. The shot caught him in the groin. Strangler, unlike Timmy when Jane kicked him, took the blow and turned his head and looked at the man in a way that made me feel as if the world had just turned dark. Strangler jerked free of the ref, grabbed the man around the waist, and ran with him until he hit the ropes with the man’s back. He squeezed like he was trying to get grease out of a tube, and the man passed out.
Strangler just dropped him. A couple of men on the sidelines pulled the unconscious tough guy through the ropes and took him away.
Strangler called out, “Next.”
We got on the steps that led up to the ring, hoping to get close enough to yell out to Strangler that the gangsters were there and looking for him, but the referee yelled for us to get down.
Strangler looked and saw us.
“They’re here,” I said, loud as I could.
Strangler let what I said hang in the air before he mouthed, “Don’t matter.”
Another man entered the ring, and Strangler went back to it. This guy was burly and only wearing pants and a T-shirt. He was a little bit more work for Strangler, but I think the truth was Strangler was giving the crowd a show. The last one had been too easy. The two of them flopped this way, and then they flopped the other way, and it all ended with the challenger pinned to the floor with Strangler’s knee in his neck.
After three more challengers lost to Strangler, it was over. No one else wanted to step into the ring.
I looked this way and that for Bad Tiger and Timmy but didn’t see them.
Strangler lifted up a ring rope and stepped under it onto the steps. As we backed down to let him pass, he picked up his sweatshirt. “You ought not to have come back with them around.”
“You need to run,” Jane said. “They were bound to find you, and now they have.”
She pointed. Timmy was standing at the back of the crowd, which was beginning to break up.
“Me and him got to talk,” Strangler said, and headed in that direction. But Timmy just turned and walked away briskly.
“I think he doesn’t want to shoot you in this crowd,” Jane said. “But I don’t think he’s giving up.”
Strangler started across the lot carrying his sweatshirt. We followed.
“Go home, kids,” he said.
“Ain’t got no home,” Tony said.
“Then go away.”
“Why don’t you run?” Jane said.
“ ’Cause I probably deserve what I’m going to get.”
“Why? You gave the money back,” she said.
We had crossed the lot now, and we could see Strangler’s trailer. Bad Tiger was sitting on the steps smiling at us. I suppose we should have broke and ran right then, but we didn’t. Like ducks, we followed Strangler to his trailer. Just before we got to the steps, Bad Tiger stood up, reached inside his coat, pulled out a gun, and held it to his side.
“Howdy, Strangler,” Bad Tiger said.
“Just get it over with,” Strangler said. “Kids ain’t got nothing to do with it.”
“Sure they do,” said a voice behind us. “We’re all old friends.”
I turned and there was Timmy. He had his coat thrown back and his hand was across his chest, resting on the butt of his gun in its shoulder holster.
Timmy said, “I always wanted to try you, Strangler.”
“No you don’t,” Strangler said. “You did, you wouldn’t have your hand on that gun.”
Timmy’s face fell.
Bad Tiger turned and opened the door to Strangler’s trailer, said, “Come on in. It’s your place. You�
��ll like it fine. For a moment.”
Strangler went up the steps and inside, tossed the sweatshirt on the floor. We followed, Timmy behind us.
When we were in the trailer, Timmy shut the door.
The place was a wreck. Clothes thrown about, drawers open.
Bad Tiger said, “Cozy.”
“I tell you, the kids ain’t got nothing to do with nothing,” Strangler said.
“Say they don’t,” Bad Tiger said. “They come to warn you. They did that, didn’t they?”
“Yeah, what a coincidence,” Timmy said. “Us here, and you three kiddies here. I’d call that a happy coincidence.”
“You should have just gone on when I told you,” Strangler said to us.
“You know,” said Jane, “you’re right.”
“Yeah,” Bad Tiger said, “when you’re right, you’re right. But, here’s the thing, Strangler. We want the money.”
“I haven’t got it.”
“The crippled kid?” Bad Tiger said. “Tell me, for your own sake, she’s still crippled. That you didn’t spend the money on that.”
“There is no crippled kid.”
Bad Tiger let that idea roam around inside his head.
“Saying you made that up?” Bad Tiger said.
“I just wanted to have a good reason to do something I shouldn’t have. I was tired of this life. Then, after I done it, I thought this life wasn’t so bad after all. I made that story up because I didn’t want to just be a common thief, like you two. I mailed the money back.”
Timmy laughed. It was the kind of laugh that was solid enough and sharp enough you could have whittled wood with it. “You are one big liar, Strangler,” he said.
“Not about the money,” he said.
Bad Tiger moved quickly and brought the gun barrel down on the side of Strangler’s head. Strangler staggered back a step and turned his head sideways. When he looked back at Bad Tiger, there was blood running down the side of his face. He grinned. There was a look in his eyes akin to the look he gave the man that had hit him below the belt. I saw Bad Tiger’s eyes shift a little when he saw that look. He didn’t like it. He stepped back.
Strangler said, “My ole granny can hit harder than that, and she’s got a bad arm.”
“Yeah,” Bad Tiger said, “well, let’s see how a bullet in your gut goes. See how big a bite that is. No, tell you what. I’m going to start with the kids first. I’ll take shorty there, and then you don’t talk, I got to do one of the others. The girl, I’m going to shoot her several times. I really don’t like her.”
“Get in line,” Jane said.
“You just don’t learn, do you,” Bad Tiger said. He raised the gun and pointed it at Jane.
Strangler said, “All right, now. I’ll give you the money.”
Everything went still and silent for a long moment.
“That’s the way I figured,” Timmy said. “I knew you had that money. Mailed it back, my butt.”
“I got it, all right.”
“So you didn’t mail it back?” Jane said.
“No,” Strangler said.
“Way you lie,” Jane said, “you and me should team up.”
Strangler laughed a little.
“Okay,” Bad Tiger said. “You’ve had your chuckle, now show us the money.”
Strangler moved over to a trunk on the floor and started to open it.
“Hold it,” Bad Tiger said. “I done looked there. We threw this place earlier. If we found the money, we might have just left you.”
“No we wouldn’t have,” Timmy said.
“You got to know where to look, and how,” Strangler said.
“It could have been four ways,” Bad Tiger said, “but you had to get cute. And Buddy, he had to get shot. You messed things up.”
“Not for you two,” Strangler said. “I give it to you now, you only have to split it two ways.”
“Sure it’s in there?” Timmy said.
“Yeah,” Strangler said.
“All of you, get over there by the chest,” Bad Tiger said.
“Yeah, that way, we start shooting, you’ll be grouped up nice,” Timmy said.
We went over and stood by the trunk, near Strangler.
Strangler opened the trunk and took out a small barbell and a few metal weights, placed them on the floor beside the trunk.
He turned and looked at Bad Tiger. “I’m going to have to have a pocketknife, something like that.”
Bad Tiger reached his free hand into his pocket and took out a pocketknife and tossed it to Strangler. Strangler caught it, opened it. He bent down and reached into the trunk, caught the bottom edge with the knife, and wiggled the blade until the bottom came up.
It was a false bottom. The trunk was actually several inches deeper. There were bills in it. Lots of them. They were laid out in rows.
“I thought I was the liar,” Jane said. “You got the touch. You told me your mama robbed the bank, not you, I might have believed you.”
“I didn’t spend a dollar,” Strangler said.
Bad Tiger came closer and said to us, “While y’all are sorting your consciences, back over there a ways.”
We moved. That put our backs against the wall.
“That’s nice,” Bad Tiger said, looking inside the trunk. “But is that all of it?”
“There’s some in the bedroom,” Strangler said.
“I looked in there,” Bad Tiger said.
“You looked in here,” Strangler said. “Now, split it up, shoot me, whatever, but let the kids go.”
“Oh yeah,” Bad Tiger said, turning slightly, looking at Timmy. “There ain’t actually going to be no two-way split.”
He shot Timmy in the chest. The sound of the shot in the trailer made my ears ring like a telephone. Outside, though, with all the carnival racket going on, it wouldn’t have sounded like much, if it was heard at all.
Timmy moved slightly but didn’t drop. He just stood there. He looked at Bad Tiger like maybe it was all a joke. The bullet had gone right through him and slammed into the wall. He tried to shoot his gun, but it was suddenly too heavy for him to hold. It fell out of his hand and he went to one knee.
“For the record,” Bad Tiger said, “I never liked you much.”
Timmy leaned forward slightly, then fell on his face.
That’s when it happened.
As Bad Tiger turned, Strangler, quick as a card cheat, dipped down and grabbed one of the weights and threw it, hit Bad Tiger in the face. Bad Tiger groaned and fell on his back. Strangler stepped forward and put his foot on Bad Tiger’s gun hand. He pushed his weight down till Bad Tiger let go of the gun.
Bad Tiger made a noise like a rat trapped in a fruit jar, managed to jerk his hand free. As he got to his feet, Strangler hit him with a punch that knocked him across the room and into the front door.
The door wasn’t closed so good, and when Bad Tiger flipped backwards against it, it flew open and he went tumbling down the stairs.
“Now I’m going to show you how you really hit someone,” Strangler said, and picked up the little barbell.
By the time he started for the door, Bad Tiger was gone.
46
Outside, we saw Bad Tiger running across the lot in the direction of the rides. Strangler took off after him.
Jane said, “Well?”
She broke into a run, and we followed.
Darting between people and around concessions and booths, we followed Strangler and Bad Tiger to where the air was filled with the grinding and clanking of gears, shifting seats, and people yelling and laughing.
Bad Tiger was making good time, but Strangler, big man or not, was making better. We kept running after them, and then Bad Tiger came up against a swirling ride and stopped. The chairs with people in it swung down and back up, around and down again. Bad Tiger seemed kind of frozen by it. He looked at the ride; then he turned and looked at us. But mainly he looked at Strangler and that barbell.
Bad Tiger reached down a
nd pulled up his pants cuff. There was a little holster there, and in the little holster was a little revolver.
Like I said, it wasn’t a big gun, but any gun if it’s pointed at you is big, which is why little men love to carry them.
He pointed it at Strangler.
“I ain’t running no more,” Bad Tiger said.
“You’ve run all your life,” Strangler said. “You ain’t nothing but a runner.”
“Yeah, you think so. I tell you, I ain’t running from you no more. You best just let me go.”
“Without your money.” The way Strangler said it, I thought he was about to break out and snicker.
“I don’t need no money. Banks got plenty of money.”
“Nah,” Strangler said. “I let you go, I figure I’m going to have to see you again, and I don’t want to.”
Strangler advanced with the barbell.
“Then I’ll shoot you.”
“I just don’t care,” Strangler said, and stepped forward.
Bad Tiger fired the gun.
47
The bullet hit Strangler, I knew that, but all he did was grunt and shift a bit, and then he was walking again. Blood was running down his side. His mouth was twisted up and there was spittle on his lips.
Bad Tiger looked at Strangler like he’d just discovered that a martian had landed at the carnival. He was so startled, he backed up a step.
He fired again.
This time I heard the bullet slam into something behind us. I turned my head and saw one of the teddy bears at a booth topple over, bleeding white cotton stuffing.
Strangler was less than three feet away from Bad Tiger now. He made a noise in his throat like a dog growling over a bone. People had started to understand what was happening. A lady screamed. There were yells from the spinning ride. The guy that worked the ride lever said, “Hey now, hey now,” and he made a quick retreat around the other side of the ride. I hoped he was going to get some law.
Bad Tiger yelled and pulled the trigger.
All the Earth, Thrown to the Sky Page 16
