THE RINGMASTER
Steen Langstrup
Copyright Steen Langstrup, 2020
Published by 2 Feet Entertainment at Smashwords
EYES WIDE OPEN, SEEING NOTHING
The smell hit her nostrils instantly as consciousness returned. It was the smell of an empty summerhouse or and old basement. A sour, moldy smell.
First the smell and then the pain. In her head, her legs, her arms, her feet, her torso, her hands, her mouth, her stomach…
Her first thought was…Traffic accident? Have I been run over by a car?
Lying in a bed, the darkness was opaque. Eyes wide open, seeing nothing. Black. Black. Black. Carefully touching her eyes. They were sore and seemed a little swollen but they didn’t feel…ruined.
Shouting, “Hello!” The sound echoed through the dark room.
Gasping for air. Searching the sides of the bed with frantic hands. The rough feel of fingernails scraping on concrete. This is not a bed. It’s a thin mattress on a raw concrete floor! This is no hospital.
Shouting again, “Anybody here?”
Finding a wall at the other side of the mattress. Bricks. Feeling the grout between the bricks. Uneven. Done by someone lacking skills. Something’s alive, scuttling. A spider? Recoiling her hands. Pulling her legs toward her body, wrapping her arms around them. Now feeling the cold, a damp, creeping cold.
And then in flashes, like those from cameras, memories returned in a mixed-up blur of images; helter-skelter, unconnected, yet clear enough to confirm that this wasn’t a dream. This nightmare was real. A nightmare you might not survive.
With trembling hands, she gently searched her body. Still dressed. The clothes seem to be intact. No wounds to be found, only abrasions on the knees and elbows. No bones appeared to be broken. Some swelling to the face, especially around the mouth, a couple of bumps on the head. A loose tooth. Nothing too serious, but there must be bruises everywhere, judging by the pain. Nothing too serious.
Yet.
A sound came from somewhere in the darkness. Heart pounding inside her chest, she turned toward the sound and hastily crawled backwards, away from it. What was that? Something moving? An animal? A rat? Something rustling about.
There it was again!
Legs starting to shudder. Pressing shoulders and back up against the rough brick wall.
A new sound. Faint grunts. Breathing. There was someone else somewhere in the dark.
A man.
IT’S NOT THE SAME IF IT’S NOT LIVE
“When I get the position at the state hospital,” Benjamin said, killing the bike engine, “you won’t have to work here anymore.”
Agnes released the helmet and winked at him from the sidecar, “If you get the job.”
“You don’t think I’ll get it?” He smiled, but Agnes sensed hurt flickering in the corner of his eyes.
“Of course I do,” she replied, getting out of the sidecar. “You know me, I don’t like to take anything for granted before it actually happens.”
“Little Miss Prudence.”
“Maybe, but I’m your Miss Prudence,” she said, stretching her back. The motorcycle was an old, army green BSA from 1963. Benjamin loved the bike, but it always left Agnes aching from every joint after riding in the sidecar. “By the way, what makes you think that I’ll quit my job here at the petrol station if you do get a job? I’m not the grand doctor’s little wifey, right?”
He pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his messy dark hair. “I’m just not that into you working alone in the evening in a remote place like this. There are so many robberies at petrol stations. You could get another job.”
She kissed him. “Stop it. Please baby, usually you’re the one claiming that there would be far less crime if only people stopped being so scared of each other. It’s not like this part of the country is flooded with jobs for students anymore. Besides, I’m not working evenings alone here. We always work in pairs.”
“Hmm.” He looked at his watch. “The final is about to start. I need to get home.”
“You could record it. We could see it together when I get off.”
He laughed, “Yeah, right,” and pulled her close to kiss her again. “All I meant was, when I get the position, you won't need a student job anymore. You could focus on studying. We might even move away from here, find a nice place to live in the city.”
“And all I meant, was that we could watch the final together when I’m finished here.”
“It’s not the same if it’s not live. You know that.” He looked at his watch again. “I need to go, or I’ll miss the beginning.”
“Then you’d better hurry.” She kissed him quickly one last time. “Are you coming to pick me up later?”
“‘Course, I am.” The helmet back on his head, he winked and fired up the engine.
She waved as he turned the bike around and rode away from her, out onto the highway, eager to get home. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned to walk between the petrol pumps, heading toward the station.
IT’S GOING TO BE A QUIET NIGHT
Belinda squatted down in front of the first row, refilling the shelves with bags of potato chips from a box on the floor next to her. She worked her hands fast, shoving the bags on to the shelves. Smack. Smack. Smack. Next row. She rose with the empty box, to squeeze it flat, as the automatic doors slid open and Agnes entered the shop.
“Hi, Belinda.”
“You’re late,” Belinda said, not looking at her.
“Am I?”
Belinda pushed her bleached hair back behind an ear with a solarium tanned hand. “It’s ten minutes past.”
Agnes went behind the counter to put her bag on the floor. “I’m sorry.”
Belinda left her standing there without a word, exiting the shop through the backdoor and throwing the flat cardboard box into the cardboard recycling container. Slamming the lid down, she turned away and just stood there, trying to get a hold of herself. She looked at the area around the petrol station: Wheat fields, some trees in the distance, a few farms scattered about. The old highway, usually rather heavy trafficked. But not tonight.
Fishing her cell phone from her pocket, she texted Christoffer.
U there?
She waited ten seconds. Then texted him again.
Chris, answer me!
Ten seconds more, so she texted him a third message.
On duty with Agnes. Fuck that. Boring Agnes. I might die. Will U stop by?
No answer. Of course not. He had probably turned off his cell phone even though she told him not to. She bet he was watching the final. Livid, she slid her phone back into her pocket and returned to the shop to find Agnes in the back room, connecting her laptop. “I’m going to try to get some work done on my thesis tonight, if it’s okay with you?”
“I don’t care,” Belinda said. “We’ll have hardly any customers anyway so long as they’re playing the final. We could close the shop and nobody would notice.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty wild Denmark being in the final. It’s okay if you want to watch it while I’m sitting here messing with my thesis.”
“I don’t wanna watch it.”
Agnes looked at her. “You don’t?”
“Nope.”
“Is something wrong? You seem a little…”
The tiny back room had shelves on the walls. A white table surrounded by three chairs. The window faced the back of the petrol station where the cars exit the car wash. A small TV was bolted to the wall just below the ceiling. There were also a refrigerator and a coffeemaker. Belinda crashed out on one of the chairs. “Was that your boyfriend who dropped you off? The guy on the motorcycle?”
“Yes.” Agnes pushed back her chair and returned her stare. “His name’s Benjami
n. Why?”
“Doesn’t he ever just piss you off?”
“No.” Agnes held her stare. “You got trouble with your own boyfriend?”
“Not besides his being an asshole from time to time.” She shook her head and laughed. “It’s okay. It’s just me I guess. Maybe my period’s due or something. I’m in such a bad mood today.”
Agnes nodded. “If you need to talk, I’m right here.”
Belinda counted the cracks in the ceiling. “It’s going to be one boring evening, you know that? Not a damned thing’s going to happen. If we get five customers, I’ll fucking buy you an ice cream.”
“Deal,” Agnes said, glancing at the computer screen. “Less than five customers and I’ll buy us both an ice cream, more and you buy.”
“Start counting your money.” Belinda pulled out her cell phone again and texted Christoffer.
Answer me.
“What are you studying?” she asked Agnes at the same time, even though she didn’t give a shit.
“Anthropology.”
“Nice.” She nodded.
“My thesis explores Bushmen in Botswana. I try to explain how their culture and religion has emerged as a natural consequence of, and in interaction with, the ecosystem in which the tribes live.”
“Oh?” she yawned, her eyes still glued to her cell phone. “He could like, fucking answer me. Don’t you think so? Wouldn’t it piss you off if your boyfriend didn’t answer when you texted him?”
Agnes shrugged. “Maybe he’ll answer later?”
“Yeah.” Belinda sprang to her feet and went back into the shop to check the goods on the shelves, and the soft drinks in the refrigerator. I might as well pass the time refilling the shelves, she thought to herself, finding a pen and some paper in a drawer behind the counter. She’d die of boredom if she didn’t.
She quickly glanced at the black and white images from the four surveillance cameras on the flickering screen above the counter. The petrol station was just as deserted as it was going to be for the next however many hours.
NOBODY FORCES THEM TO DO IT
Agnes stared out of the back window. Her eyes locked on a farm atop a small hill about 500 meters away from the petrol station. However, she didn’t really see it. In front of her, her thesis filled the laptop screen.
There had been one customer so far. A German driving a motor home. Benjamin had called about fifteen minutes before, to tell her that the final had been delayed due to some riots outside the stadium.
She moved her eyes back to the laptop screen and corrected an erroneous comma. She was having difficulties getting the different parts of her thesis to merge together. She reckoned she was missing some natural transitions between the chapters and couldn’t make up her mind if it was true or not. She drummed her fingers on the table.
Through the open door, she could hear Belinda laughing and shortly after Belinda came back in. “Here! You gotta see this one! It’s so funny. Christoffer just sent the link to me.”
“Oh, so he did answer?”
Belinda frowned. “Of course he did! Didn’t you think he would?”
“Sure.” Agnes clicked to save her thesis. “You just seemed a little annoyed he didn’t answer earlier on.”
“Nope. I knew he would answer.”
Agnes glanced at her. “Okay,” she replied and tried to smile. “What was it you wanted to show me?”
“This one, it’s so funny!” She handed her phone to Agnes who hesitantly received it. “You have to push the screen like this to start the clip.”
Agnes nodded even though she didn’t need instructions to play a YouTube clip. What else could she do?
The clip showed a young man skateboarding toward some stairs. He tries to jump onto the stair railing with his skateboard, aiming to slide down it. He fails, slamming his crotch on the railing and tumbling down the stairs. Agnes can almost feel the pain the guy must have experienced, but Belinda, looking over Agnes’ shoulder, just laughed out loud.
The clip cut to another guy riding a BMX bike.
“Oh, you have to see this one!” Belinda yells, still laughing. “This sad fuck is just too lame!”
The young man rides the bike up a ramp hoping to jump a fence but he’s lacking speed and instead his front wheel gets caught in the fence, sending him flying with flailing arms into the air, before smashing his head straight into the ground.
Agnes handed the phone back to Belinda. “I don’t find this funny.”
Belinda stared at her in disbelief. “Why not? It’s awesome. Look at this guy, he falls head first down a basement shaft and totally ruins his nose!”
Agnes grimaced. “I just don't think it’s funny watching people getting hurt. Some of those guys must have been hurt so bad they needed to go to the hospital afterwards.”
Belinda stopped the YouTube clip, slid her phone down into her pocket and shrugged. “They do it to themselves, right? Nobody forces them to do it.”
Agnes shuffled her feet under the table. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe.”
Belinda stayed right behind her. She filled her lungs with air and slowly released it through her nose, shaking her head at the same time. “You don’t have to take everything so fucking seriously, you know?”
“It’s just not my kind of thing.”
“Okay,” Belinda said, nodding her head like she finally understood the true meaning of life. “Then I don’t think I want to show you the clip with the car crash.”
Agnes blinked her eyes in shock.
Belinda laughed. “I got you there, didn’t I? For a moment you thought I had a clip with a car accident! You did! Admit it!”
“Okay, you got me.” Agnes returned her laugh, but somewhere underneath it all she wasn’t that sure it really was a joke. “You got me.”
When their laughter died down, Agnes turned toward her laptop and started scrolling through the text in the chapter that depicted the bushmen’s pact with nature.
Belinda stayed put, staring at her face. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Would you let you boyfriend film while you were giving him a blow job?”
“What?” Agnes started laughing.
“It’s just Christoffer wants…”
Agnes bit her lip to stop laughing. “How would you feel if something like that ended up on the internet?”
“It’s just for his own use.”
“Would you be asking me if this was something you really wanted to do?”
IS THIS CANDID CAMERA OR WHAT?
Belinda let her finger trace the edge of the freezer filled with all kinds of ice cream as she looked around the inside of the shop. All the shelves were packed with goods. She looked at the clock on the wall; there were still many hours until closing time. She could hear the clicking sounds of Agnes typing on her laptop in the back room, she could hear the humming of the freezers and fridges, she could hear her own footsteps on the worn linoleum floor.
She picked up a magazine from a shelf and started browsing through the pages, not really caring to read them. Instead, she read the words on a bar of chocolate telling her how to win a trip to Euro Disney with the whole family, just by visiting their webpage and answering some questions.
She slipped in behind the counter to have another look at the screens showing black and white images from the surveillance cameras. They showed a deserted petrol station. She turned to look out on the highway. Just as deserted. She wondered if she’d ever experienced that road this empty. She knew she hadn’t. That had clearly never happened before. Then, Denmark had never ever made it to the final before. It was a very special night. She almost wished she could find the wherewithal to get excited over it. But she just couldn’t. She wondered what would happen if Denmark actually did win the final tonight. Utter mayhem. People would run out in to the streets in every city all over the nation, partying all night long. Still, not out here. Nothing ever happens here. And even if it did, she wouldn’t want to participate in that
kind of party.
The air pump caught her eye. It was standing out in the middle of everything on the pathway between the petrol pumps. It wasn’t a moment ago. Was it? She frowned. The German in the mobile home, their sole customer so far, did he use it to adjust the air pressure in his tires? She sensed a weird tickling down her back. He’d parked on the other side of Pump 5. Had he used the air pump, it would’ve been standing on the other side of Petrol Pump 5. Still, it wasn’t there a moment ago.
Exiting the shop and stopping right outside the automatic doors, she looked around in all directions before returning to look at the air pump. Who could have put it there?
“Is this candid camera or what?” she mumbled to herself as she picked up the air pump and put it back where it belonged, next to the other air pump. Hanging on the air pipe, it hissed and whistled from the valve as air refilled the container.
SUNSET HIT THE WINDOW
Agnes pushed off her shoes to move her toes freely. She clicked away from her thesis and logged on to Facebook to see what everybody else was doing.
Everybody else was telling the world that they were watching the final. The games appeared to finally have begun. She returned to her thesis. She drank the last of the water from her glass.
Belinda’s voice trailed through the open door. She was speaking to someone on her cell phone out in the shop. She laughed. It was something about some creepy guy from some disco. Agnes didn’t like to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to when Belinda was shouting like that.
It was also hard to focus on her thesis. She drummed her fingers on the table. Irritation was growing inside her, but she refused to acknowledge the feeling. The hue of the sunset hit the window in a warm orange glow that wasn’t really that pleasant as it tired her eyes and made the screen mirror her face.
Belinda was laughing loudly again, almost yelling, “You didn’t! You just didn’t!”
The Ringmaster Page 1
