by Chris Castle
“It would be his choice,” Marcus said. “He can’t stay in direct sunlight for too long. It would…affect him.” Matt felt his pulse spike.
“You don’t mean he’s a…vampire?” Matt glanced round to Pa and saw he was waiting to hear too, as if he’d been thinking the same thing.
“No, no, no, not a vampire, of course not,” Marcus said quickly.
“He’s a zombie,” Lucas added, as they turned a hard left and stepped into a cave littered with a trail of weak candles.
*
“Max?” Lucas called out. His voice echoed down the long, slick chamber. “I’ve brought Marcus and two friends along. Were you sleeping?”
“Not sleeping,” came a long, slow answer. The voice was impossibly deep, as if it were a part of the cave itself, embedded in the walls. Slowly, a big, loping figure came ambling out from the far corner and into the light. Matt watched as the long, thin monster staggered over towards them. In his hand was a book, which he delicately set down. As he came closer Matt saw reading glasses around his neck.
“Shakespeare,” he said and smiled shyly, careful not to reveal any teeth.
“Everyone, this is Max Everheart,” Lucas said and led the introductions. Max waved to each of them, rather than shake hands and it was clear to see why. He was thin to the point of skeletal and the skin looked as if it could peel away at any moment. His eyes were wet and grey and his cheeks almost poked through the thin layer of skin.
“Like to read,” he muttered, pointing to the book and Lucas smiled broadly, as if he was doing it for both of them.
“Always was a reader, this one. Every moment he wasn’t at work, he always had a book in his hand.” Lucas pointed to Matt and Pa. “They’ve come for the treasure troves, Max. They’re part of the family on the hill.” Matt saw the expression change in Max’s face. His eyes widened just a flicker and when he drew a hand up to his mouth, Matt could see it was shaking.
“Goodness,” he managed to whisper and then seemed to control himself. Without another word, he turned and began walking down the cave, pointing to the candles on either side as a way of warning them to keep inside the path. They followed and Matt bent down to scoop up the book, seeing how Max had clearly forgotten about it with the news.
After a while they came to a sunken bed in the cave. Max wandered over to a stack of small boulders and in the blink of an eye, lifted them, one by one. Matt gasped at the ease with which he plucked them out of the ground and Lucas leaned over to explain.
“He was a strongman when he was turned, like a wrestler. The guy was a wizard and made it stay in his bones, even after everything else changed. So Max here, his strength is linked to the bones and not the flesh. You wouldn’t think to look at him right now, but he’s as strong as all of us put together, times ten.” He winked at Matt and they both looked back to see the last of the rocks stack up against the wall. Four strong boxes were now plain to see. Matt guessed by the size of them that they were the boxes that had once been in the attic.
“She came to us when she was leaving and told us to guard them,” Lucas said in a hushed tone. “She was so sad to be leaving them behind. It just about broke my heart. So we thought about it and wanted to pick a place where the clown couldn’t get anywhere near. We thought a narrow path would be too tricky for his boots and a cave too dark for a brightly lit monster like him.”
“No clown likes the dark,” Marcus whispered to Matt, who stood, transfixed by it all.
“Safe here,” Max muttered and nodded. Matt saw he had edged to the side of the cave and it occurred to Matt why. Max was shy: from the moment he made his way over, to the way he stayed directly out of the flicker of the candlelight, he didn’t want to be seen. He wasn’t devious or sinister but self-conscious.
“You did a good job here, my friend, the best,” Lucas said as he marched over to the first box. He looked round and Max tossed him a bunch of keys from his waist. Slowly, carefully, Lucas opened up each of the four boxes and then ushered Matt and Pa over to see what was inside. Matt and Pa peered into each of the boxes. The first one was stuffed full of costumes; each had a thin sheen of what looked like silk over them. Matt put his fingertip out to touch.
“Silk,” Lucas said behind him. “Preserves the garments perfectly.” Matt nodded and was faintly aware that the three of them had all taken a step back, to give Matt and Pa time alone with the treasure troves.
The second box was full of trinkets and tricks and muskets and scarves. This was the prop box, Matt realised. These were things that had to be handled by professionals he thought suddenly and forced his hand back to his side. The third box was full of paperwork, each page filed in plastic. Matt held one up and saw it was some sort of property deed. He went through them quickly and noticed there were two types of papers: those with red outlines which were official documents and those tinged blue which were scripts. Matt pulled one of these out and held it up to the weak light. It was an introduction to an act, with bracketed pauses to explain how to wait for applause. Matt read down the page and found himself grinning, almost laughing out loud at what was written down. He turned to show Pa and then stopped in his tracks.
Pa was holding one of the photos that came from box four. Matt made his way over and saw a framed shot of his ma, perfectly balanced on a tightrope. She was not much older than Matt in the photo and her smile was so bright and beaming it almost burst from the sheet. He looked up to Pa and in the next moment the two of them were hugging. Matt closed his eyes and felt the photo crackle against his back. It was almost as if his ma was part of the embrace.
Eventually, the others joined them and Marcus explained the contents of each box. The deeds were necessary to keep the house out of the clown’s clutches and the rest were what made up the circus’ act for so many years. It was decided that they would carry the boxes back to the house now it was safe from looters and under watchful eyes. Each of the men took a crate and Matt held the pen light at the front to guide them back. Soon, they had navigated their way down the candle path back amongst the shrubs and into the clearing. The moon was a full beam and Matt lowered his light. He looked back and saw Pa talking to Marcus on his left and Lucas on his right. Max was a little way in-front, walking on his own. Matt slowed a little, until they were almost walking side by side.
“I’ve got your book,” Matt said and held it up to the light. “I didn’t want anyone to step on it.” Max nodded his thanks and for a while the two of them walked through the long grasses in a contented silence.
“I juggle,” Max said quietly and Matt looked over immediately. “When I’m not being strong for Lucas. I like to juggle. I learnt in the caves.”
“Could you show me?” Matt said and saw Max hesitate for a second, then nod. “I’ve always wanted to know how to juggle.”
“I used to watch your ma,” Max said as the house came into view. “She taught me.”
Matt opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Max gently switched the case under one arm and patted Matt’s shoulder with his free hand. Matt looked at him and the moon framed his face perfectly for a moment; his eyes were filled with sadness but there was a speck of happiness in amongst them, too. The others caught them up and together, as a band, they stepped alongside the moonlight and into the house.
*
“Couldn’t sleep?” Pa said, smiling, as they sat over breakfast. The two of them had made a pact not to look at the photos the night before, for fear of staying up all hours. Instead, they agreed on an early breakfast and then going through the first box together.
“Not so much,” Matt replied, buttering his toast. The four crates were stacked in the corner of the other room. Lucas and Marcus were visiting later to go through the other three, allowing them time with the photographs.
“It’s time then, I guess,” Pa said, wiping down his fingers and taking his plate over to the sink. Matt followed suit and the two of them lifted the top box down onto the centre of the floor. The lock was loose and Pa lift
ed it with ease. Together they stood one at each end and began to work through the photos.
Each shot was a perfect ten by eight shot. Most of them were in black and white, which instead of making the scenes appear flatter, actually made them seem more detailed and full of life. Every speck and glimmer of the costumes was crystal clear and the reaction of the townsfolk to each performance was perfectly captured. Matt was drawn to his ma, of course, but still noticed every piece of the unbelievable scenes around her. Her pa-Matt’s grandpa he realised with a buzz of sadness and excitement-seemed to figure in every moment of every scene. Never bossing or taking centre stage, it appeared, but simply a presence in the background. Once or twice, Matt saw him helping someone in the distance, or talking to a member of the audience. A twinge of sadness stabbed Matt in the heart to think he would never know this man.
It became a flicker-book. From the dates, Matt could sequence the performances, from the dancing, to the jokes, through the performances to the firework laden finale. The second time he looked through them, Matt began to study the audience. There was the buzz of excitement that came with the opening, to the enthralled, tense looks they gave the high wire and the trapeze acts, all the way through to the last moments when their faces were a mix of satisfied smiles and sad eyes at the curtain call. The third, final time, Matt only looked at his ma, full of youth and grace, with every eye of the town on her. Once or twice, a shot captured a glance between father and daughter and the smiles on both faces were amazingly private in amongst the crowds and glitter. Matt looked up in a daze over to Pa and saw the same mix in his face as the audience photos in their hands; smiling but with a sadness in his eyes.
“Some show, huh?” He said finally, setting down the last set back into the box.
“It was amazing,” Matt answered, wondering how many times the boys, Max and Lucas, must have looked through the box on dark, miserable winter days in the forests. He hoped it had given them something, something good, to hold onto during that time.
“Think we could get close to it, the show I mean?” Pa went on, “even just once?” For the first time in his life, Matt saw a flash of doubt in Pa’s eyes as his spoke. It shook him, to think Pa could be uncertain or ever doubt.
“I think we can,” Matt said. He said it for Pa but he believed it, too. Somehow, he knew they could this, even if it was just for one, single day.
“Then we can,” Pa said, the old strength returning to his voice as he spoke. “We can do this,” he said and patted the box, as if for good luck. It stayed there and Matt reached over and put his hand over it too.
“We can,” Matt said and smiled.
*
For the rest of the day, after lunch and before their guests arrived, Matt and Pa spent the afternoon putting photos up on the walls. They didn’t bother with frames, but simply tacked them up where they saw fit. Even though it was hap-hazard and unplanned, each picture seemed to fit the spot they chose and after a while it became hard to imagine the walls without the photos on them. It was as if they centred the house, making it seem sturdier and more grounded. It was a simple thing they did, but Matt hadn’t felt at peace like it for a long time. It felt right, what they were doing and good. Each time one put a picture up, the other approved it. Matt looked around from time to time and wondered if the house itself was not at work somehow and making sure everything they did fitted just right. Ideas like that should have sounded crazy but since they had set out in the car all that time ago, he didn’t put much stock in things like that anymore. Maybe crazy wasn’t such a bad place to go, once in a while.
*
Matt saw Lucas and Marcus walk up the driveway and felt disappointed to not see Max join them. He felt sad for him, sitting in amongst the shadows of the caves and wished he had felt comfortable enough to come to the house. Matt was just about to say hello when his jaw dropped at the sight of Lucas. Gone was the mossy, petal- heavy Lucas of last night. It had been replaced by a Lucas with clear, tanned skin and ruddy, colourful cheeks. Even his nails seemed to glow and his hair was shoulder length and almost silver in tone.
“This is what I get for spending a day in a kitchen baking cakes,” he said cheerfully, pointing to himself and making light of Matt’s shock.
“You look…good,” Pa said as he stepped onto the back porch.
“Let’s see, I’ve got cookie complexion,” Lucas said, pointing to his face. “After that, I got icing sugar nails,” he went on, wiggling his fingers. “Lastly, I’m looking at some flour in the hair.” For a finale, he swished his hair spectacularly along his shoulder.
“More importantly,” Marcus interrupted, rolling his eyes at the performance, “I’ve brought the cakes.” He flipped the box he had been carrying and the lid flew up to reveal a dozen multicoloured pastries.
“We’ll weigh this place down if we’re not careful,” Pa said, ruefully patting his stomach, even though his eyes zoomed straight to the cakes.
“Nonsense,” Marcus went on. “All the work you do with the house, you’ll need to keep your energy up.” Pa waved them up and both of them began to walk towards the house and then stopped for a moment.
“It looks straighter,” Marcus said, matter-of-factly.
“Hmm,” Lucas said, as a way of agreement. The two of them bounded up the steps even as Matt and Pa stopped to peer at the house.
“It does look straight Pa,” Matt said after a few moments of stunned silence.
“Hmm,” Pa said, as a way of agreement.
Setting down the cakes and brewing a fresh pot of coffee, the four of them sat in the room and laid out the remaining boxes, one by one. Marcus looked briefly at the photos on the wall but said nothing, instead nodding agreeably at what he saw. Lucas grinned broadly, clearly delighted and winked at Matt.
“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he drawled, as he tugged the latch of the second box open. For a moment, Matt thought he looked like a gingerbread man, just about ready to explode with excitement.
“Now, gentlemen, what we have here are the four keepers of Moon-Dip Falls. You’ve already worked your way through the memory box, the heart of the show, so now we have three. Box two, is costumes-the eyes of the performance. Every fabric of clothing is the best quality, every colour the clearest and most defined shade.” Lucas began to pull one free of the box and gently tugged the silk wrapping away. A ruby red dress spilled out over his arms and Matt almost winced at how bright the colours appeared. It lit up the room and Matt thought it looked like fine wine, the way it flowed along the space in the room.
“The colours came from crushed raspberries and rose petals,” Marcus said quietly, reaching out to run a finger to feel the dress. He encouraged Matt and Pa to do the same with a nod of his head. Matt put his thumb to the fabric and noticed how close it was to the tips of the grass blades in the fields.
“You made all these?” Pa asked. Even as he spoke, Matt noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off the dress.
“We had a dressmaker, Emily Scullery, who made all these.” Marcus’ eyes were wistful but then turned hard as he continued. “The clown pronounced her a witch. She was the first one to flee because she was in the most danger.” He held the cloth up to his face and studied it, as if he was seeing the woman in the fabric.
“Emily was no such thing of course. She just had a way of tying things together and making more of them. She could take a simple cut of cloth and weave in fruits and sand and a hundred things no other person would think of and make it something beautiful.” Matt looked at Marcus and thought how similar it all sounded to the way he used ingredients for his recipes. He wondered if he had been in love with Ms. Scullery. As if on cue, Lucas reached over, all joy gone from his eyes and patted Marcus on the arm.
“She was a genius,” Marcus said and then nodded, making an end of it.
“She was,” Pa said and prised his eyes away from the costume to meet Marcus’ eyes.
“A hard-worker, too,” Lucas said, a hint of the former excitement
returning to his voice. While they had been admiring the one outfit, Lucas had pulled out what seemed to be three dozen more wrapped garments, piled high on the floor.
“Don’t let the size of the box fool you,” he said brightly. “These things have trap-doors and secret compartments and things I don’t even understand.”
“It’s true,” Marcus said, sensing the bewilderment in Matt’s eyes. “I once hid in that box for two nights and I still didn’t find every section of it.”
“You managed to climb inside that box?” Matt said.
“Quite roomy, all things considered,” Marcus said, with a straight face.
“How did you-” Matt began to ask but then caught Lucas pulling a scarf from the box; it was the same scarf he’d been pulling at for the last minute or so and showed no sign of ending. “Never mind.”
By the time the first box was almost half empty, they decided to stop. The living room was already high with four sets of costumes and each of them was almost pulsing with energy from the colours. It was like they were almost alive, Matt thought. There was something else about them that Matt noticed, too; each of the outfits displayed a different pattern. No two garments were alike and nothing matched. It was as if the dressmaker, this Ms. Scullery, had too many ideas in her head to waste on repeating anything. Matt imagined her with a sketchbook, flipping each page, every thought different and every design nothing like the one that went before. The room itself practically glowed with the energy from the clothes, as if they had harnessed a rainbow and dragged it inside.
Over a fresh pot of coffee and a milkshake brought fresh from Marcus’ diner, the four of them carefully packed the clothes back into the box. It was strange, almost funny, how many times they went back and forth to the small crate until it was full. By the time they were done and ready to move onto the second box, the room was crackling with energy. Lucas, who had been quiet while admiring all the clothes, started to shift from one foot to the other; from taking out and re-packing the clothes, his skin had changed in tone slightly, his skin flecked with more crimson and aqua-blue, as if he had leant against a newly graphitized wall.
