“Fine.” Otis hangs his thumbs from the front pockets of his jeans. “Say what you came here to say.”
“Why is Wild Walker’s Circus so intent on Howard being seen as the son who grew up loving elephants?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The photos. On your website. All the pictures of Howard with the elephants are actually of you.”
Otis comes outside. He leans against the porch railing, pulls out a cigarette but doesn’t light it, instead spinning it along his knuckles. “Why does it matter?”
“Because you’re the one who cares the most.”
“So?”
“Addie just gave Swifty an enema.”
The cigarette stops its perpetual motion. “Excuse me?”
“Grow up,” I snap. “Swifty is seriously dehydrated. If the enema doesn’t work, Dr. Robertson is going to have to put a catheter in the vein behind Swifty’s ear to deliver IV fluids, which will stress the hell out of that calf.”
Otis spins the cigarette along his knuckles.
“Look at me,” I demand. He does. “Someone needs to step up, do what’s right for Swift Jones. If you’re the one around here who really loves elephants, then it should be you.”
Otis watches a string of horses led by a worker trot into the big tent. “So I played with elephants as a kid. Big deal.”
“And Howard?”
“He was into the tigers.”
“So what changed?”
Otis’s gaze goes arctic. “We grew up.”
We glare at each other. “Go to hell,” I say before descending the porch steps.
“I thought Swifty was just a means to an end,” Otis calls down.
“At least I don’t pretend she’s not suffering.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find your parents.” It’s a long shot but I’ve run out of options.
“Why?”
“This is their circus, not yours. Maybe, if I talk to them face-to-face, explain how bad things are for Swifty, they’ll have the balls to do something to help her.”
Otis laughs. “They’d never tell Howard what to do.”
I turn and actually stamp my foot like I’m ten. “Why not?”
Otis flicks the unlit cigarette to the ground. “It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“All you need to know is that he’s the prodigal son.”
Frustration strangles my throat. “This isn’t about which of you Tina and Max like better.”
“No contest there.”
My head pounds like it’s going to explode. “So you’re a big fucking disappointment to your parents. Join the club. Ask them to talk to Howard. Ask them to let Swifty go.”
“Go where?” Otis asks.
“I don’t know, but not here.”
I look everywhere for Tina and Maximus but can’t find them. I’m stopped three times by employees of Walker’s who offer to help me find my way, obviously Otis’s spies. My stomach is on fire from the bad coffee I drank. I’m a million miles from hungry but need to put something into my belly before it gets any worse.
“Psst.”
“Get lost,” I tell my subconscious.
“Can I help you?” a woman with a thick Southern accent in full clown makeup, red nose, frizzy purple wig and massive polka-dot shoes asks.
“Sure. You can tell Otis that I’m just heading to the food cart,” I snap, striding away.
Esmerelda’s not working. There’s a guy behind the counter who looks like he could be her brother. His nose crooks to the left, broken at some point but never fixed. The smell of grease makes my stomach growl. “Cheese quesadilla, please?”
The guy nods. “Sure thing.”
“Hey, lovely Lily.”
I whirl. It’s Clem. “Hey. Have you seen Tina or Max?”
“They’re doing a supply run a few towns over,” he says. “Stuff for their kitty cats.” Clem leans into the cart’s window. “Burger and fries, please.” He hands the guy a red coupon.
“Why do you pay for your food with coupons?”
Clem rolls his eyes. “The powers that be think the workers can’t handle too much cash.”
“Because?”
“Some of the guys have drug problems. Too much cash equals too much trouble for the family. So they give us coupons to pay for our food, take lodging out of our pay, plus taxes, etcetera. End of the month there’s not much left. Definitely not enough when we go on the road. Most of us have to sleep in the trucks.”
The initial conversation I had with Addie after the article was published, after this whole catastrophe was triggered, floats to the surface.
Wild Walker’s Circus travels most of the year, transporting their animals in semi-trucks. Does that sound like a better home for Swift Jones?
I pull out my pad, knowing this probably won’t make a difference but grasping at anything that might help me sway Tina and Max, get them to step in to help Swifty. “Can I ask you a few more questions?”
“Is it going to get me fired?” Clem asks. “I need this job—got a bunch of kids.”
“I won’t use your name,” I offer.
Clem moves out of earshot of the food cart then glances around to make sure no one else is close enough to hear him. “Shoot.”
“Do all the workers travel with the show when it goes on the road?”
“Only the ones who ain’t on probation. Most of us have done some time and, like I told you the other night, have limited options. The Walker family don’t care about anything ’cept us being legal when we cross state lines.”
“Are you? Legal, I mean.”
“I’ve been off probation for eighteen months, so I got to hit the road with the show last season.”
“What, um, did you do?”
Clem looks away for a second. “Drugs. Got hooked. Made some stupid choices.” Clem smiles, gold teeth flashing. “I got the midnight shift with the little elephant tonight. You gonna be there?”
The guy in the cart walks over with my quesadilla and Clem’s burger. I wait until he leaves to continue. “Yes, I’ll be there. Hey, how long does it take to get to each arena?”
“Depends. Sometimes hours, sometimes days.”
“What do you do with the animals when it’s a long trip?”
“They stay in the trucks the whole time. It’s too much trouble taking them in and out. Specially the tigers and elephants.”
“What if it’s super cold or hot?”
Clem takes a huge bite of his burger. “No diff. Last year a few of the elephants got a little frostbite. A few years ago I heard one of the llamas died from heatstroke.”
“So on a long drive, how do you guys keep the animals’ cages in the trucks clean? Shovel them out on the side of the road?”
“We don’t. They’re just animals.”
One of the circus vans rolls to a stop in front of the food cart. “Clem, stop flirting and get your ass in the truck,” the driver calls.
Clem digs something out of his back pocket. “Hit the gold mine. Three tiger whiskers. I’ll weave them into something special for you.”
“Um. Okay.” I find a bit of shade and sit to eat, but instead Google how to take videos with my camera. It’s not rocket science. My stomach growls but the smell of the quesadilla is making me nauseous. After a couple of bites, it goes in the trash.
When I get to Swifty’s pen, there’s a guy inside shoveling dirty straw into a wheelbarrow. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning,” the guy says without looking up. “It’s my shift.”
Goose bumps rise on my arms despite the oppressive heat. “Where’s the calf?”
“Howard came by. He took her into the ring with his elephants.”
The heart I thought was hollow fills wit
h blood and presses painfully against my chest. Every beat is excruciating. “She’s too weak. Why didn’t Dr. Tinibu stop him?”
“The elephant?”
“Howard.”
The man looks up from his work. “She wasn’t here. But it wouldn’t matter. No one tells Howard Walker what to do.”
33
I slip into the big tent unnoticed and silently climb halfway up the bleachers. Twenty rows above center ring, mostly hidden in the murky light, I slide onto a metal bench. Howard stands in the center ring with all his elephants, including Swifty. The calf holds on to Tambor’s tail with her trunk like it’s a security blanket. Pulling out my camera, I turn the settings to video. My nerves jangle. I haven’t gotten Otis’s approval. If he catches me he’ll be furious. “Too bad,” I mutter. Howard will make his little brother approve the video, because he’s so proud of his elephant act. More important, Mr. Matthews will be happy.
Trying to keep my hands steady, I track the calf as she moves around the ring. There are bright silver pedestals placed at irregular intervals. The older elephants know exactly where to go, when to spin in circles, raise a leg, or trumpet. It’s pretty impressive, given their size, that Howard has trained his elephants so well. A few of them wear harness-like contraptions with feathers on their heads.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Howard walk over to Swifty. The calf doesn’t let go of Tambor’s tail. The bull turns, putting his mass between Howard and the calf. Howard squares his shoulders, barks out a command I can’t quite hear. Tambor still doesn’t move. Swifty’s ears flap faster, like she senses tension, but Howard backs off, jogging to the bleachers on the other side of the ring. He stumbles midway then gets his balance, his body off-kilter, then trips again, almost falls. The way he’s moving reminds me of my dad when he’s had too much Scotch.
What the hell is going on? Why is Howard working with the elephants when he’s been drinking? Tambor runs his trunk over Swifty’s body, almost like Raki did when the calf was born. In the distance, Howard reaches beneath the first row of bleachers. He pulls out a wooden rod with a metal curved hook near the top. I zoom in with my camera. The hook and the rod’s pointed end have been honed into sharp spikes. I’ve never seen one before, but I know it’s an ankus.
Every muscle in my body is taut. Like Sawyer making a Hail Mary shot. Except this isn’t a game. This isn’t a goal. And I’m not a high school lacrosse star; I’m just a girl standing at the edge of a cliff. But I can no longer hold on to the idea that Swifty will survive the circus if I just find one person here to care. I take a desperate breath but it’s not enough to fill my lungs.
All the clues were there. The sores behind Tambor’s ears, the fact that the gentle elephant wouldn’t take an apple from Howard, the photos, Otis’s lies, Clem’s admissions all spell out that Wild Walker’s is a dangerous place for its animals. But I didn’t want to accept it. That would get in my way. Disgusting. I’m beyond disgusting. But what am I supposed to do now?
I wait for Ms. Frey, Calvin, Swift Jones and Violet, even my inner voice, to whisper the answer in my ear. My eyes sting like my tears have turned to acid. My voice, even if I wanted to hurl obscenities down on Howard’s head like lightning, fry him to a crisp, is buried deep beneath fears that have created the impotent girl I hate yet struggle to protect. What would shouting do anyway? Wild Walker’s owns Swifty. She’s Howard’s now. Period. Even if I wanted to save the calf, there’s nothing I can do except leave so that what happens next won’t be burned into my brain.
I steady the video camera. I’m a selfish coward, but this is my Hail Mary pass.
Howard swings the ankus toward Tambor, catching him on the soft top of his foot. The elephant dodges left, eyes rolling. Blood trickles over his toenails. Howard swings again, connects behind the bull’s delicate ear then rains rapid-fire blows down on the bull’s feet and trunk until Tambor finally backs away. Rivulets of bright red run down his shoulder, trunk and feet. Swifty loses her grip on the bull’s tail. She stands alone. Alone. Howard raises the ankus, leaps toward her. He drops the spike onto her foot. Blood wells from Swifty’s wound. Her eyes dart as she clearly looks for a way to escape. A scream claws its way up my throat.
“Stop!” Otis runs into the ring. “What the fuck?”
“Hey, Saint Otis,” Howard drawls. “Can I help you with something?”
I hold my breath and zoom in on Otis’s face. His eyes are no longer ice. They’re burning up. He steps between his brother and Swifty. Relief courses through my veins. Otis is going to stop Howard; he’s stepping in, doing what’s right. He’s exasperating, rude, moody as hell, but he’s going to protect Swifty. He does care. That’s all that matters.
Howard’s backhand comes out of nowhere, like a bear attack. It catches Otis in the jaw, snaps his head sideways. He doesn’t go down but it’s close. Despite the blood on his lower lip, Otis keeps his hands balled at his sides. I stand, the fight instinct I haven’t felt since Gary Haycox kicking in. Otis’s head jerks toward me then back to Howard. Did he see me?
“Wow. Now you’re a tough guy,” Howard notes. “Too bad you weren’t tough when you were seven.”
“How long am I going to have to pay for that?”
Howard grins. “As long as I can remember what happened to me for four years because of you.”
They stand toe to toe, Howard a few inches taller. I zoom in on Swifty. She’s hiding behind Otis. Tambor takes a few steps toward the calf but Howard waves the ankus. The bull stops, ears madly flapping.
“You promised you’d lay off the booze.”
Howard smirks. “Oops.” He turns his back to Otis. “Get lost.”
“You put a mark on Swifty—”
“Swifty?” Howard hoots. “You already gave her a nickname? You’re predictable if nothing else.”
“The zoo people will be all over you.”
“You think I care what they think?” Howard asks, still walking away. “She’s my calf now, baby bro. And she needs to be broken in, learn that I’m the boss. Only way to stay safe once she’s grown.”
Otis opens his fists, hands loose by his sides. He relaxes his shoulders. “You’re right,” he agrees, his tone casual, conversational. “But she’s dehydrated, weak. Let her get stable. Otherwise you won’t have her for long.”
Howard turns. He’s smiling but his eyes are daggers. “Say please.”
“Please.”
“Fine. Take her back. But, Otis?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t interfere with my training process again.”
“Sure,” Otis says. “Mind if I take Tambor to lead your calf back?”
Howard’s smile slips away. “The bull stays.”
Otis shrugs. “Sure.”
Swift Jones follows Otis, glancing over her shoulder at Howard until she’s out of the ring.
“Psst.”
I listen, because I need help.
“Here is my thecret. It’s quite thimple: One thees clearly only with the heart. Anything ethential is invithible to the eyes.”
It’s from The Little Prince, again. The voice still sounds like mine, but it’s definitely a younger me, and some words that begin with an S have a slight lisp. I turn off the video, quietly descending the stairs, and slip out the back of the tent.
34
“Yes, Lily?”
“Howard uses an ankus.” Silence. I switch the phone to my other ear. “Addie? Did you hear what I said?”
“Lily, you need to calm—”
“I have it on video. He was drunk and used it on Tambor at least a dozen times. For no reason! Then he hit Swifty. She bled.” I’m outside the big tent. It’s almost dark but I can see Otis in the distance leading Swifty back to the animal building. “What are you going to do?”
“Lily, there’s nothing I can do.”
Her voice is a sl
ap. “You knew.”
Addie exhales. “I saw signs of abuse on his elephants. But I wasn’t certain if it was Howard or a previous owner.”
“We have to stop him.”
“A lot of circuses, even some zoos, still use an ankus. While it’s not my preference, if an ankus is used responsibly...”
“Didn’t you hear me? Howard didn’t use it responsibly. We have to tell someone. Get Swifty back.”
“Lily.”
“What?” There’s so much pressure in my brain it feels like my head is going to split open.
“I signed an NDA.”
“A what?”
“It’s a nondisclosure agreement.”
“Meaning?”
“I can’t disclose anything negative I see at the circus to outside sources. It was the only way to get the Walkers’ permission to accompany Swift Jones. It was my only chance to teach the circus how to care for her.”
“So what? You signed a stupid agreement. Break it.”
“If I say anything negative about what I’ve seen at Walker’s, the Pennington Zoo will be sued. The circus will win that lawsuit. I can’t put all of our animals at risk over one elephant calf.”
“Fine. I’ll tell everyone.”
“Lily, you signed an agreement for approved interview subjects, locations and videos on the first day we arrived. I was shocked Otis didn’t make you sign an NDA, too, but I guess that would’ve looked like he was overtly trying to control the press. Instead, he used the excuse of ensuring your safety and protecting the circus’s creative work to control who you talked to, what you saw, where you went.”
Certainty drains from my body. I can’t write about what I saw, because it happened in the big tent. And there’s no way I can use the video.
“Listen to me,” Addie says. “If you talk about any of this or share that video, you can forget about going to college because Walker’s will sue you for every penny you have.”
“What if I don’t care?”
“They’ll go after your father. Would you really do that to him?”
I’m deep underwater. My chest hurts like it’s being crushed. “It’s so wrong, Addie.”
When Elephants Fly Page 20