Shadows of Tockland

by Jeffrey Aaron Miller

  “But he is right about one thing,” she added. She brought her hands out from behind her back. Neither one of them contained a knife. She clasped them together and rested them against her stomach. “You will regret getting in that truck.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Most people do,” Annabelle replied, shrugging one shoulder. “I did.”

  And with that, she stepped away from the trailer, shook her hair and turned to leave.

  “Well, I won’t go back to Mountainburg,” David said. “I’d live in a trash pit before I live in Vern’s house again.”

  Annabelle looked back at him, one eyebrow up, a smile again playing on her lips. She started to say something, but then Telly came around the front of the truck, jabbing his walking stick into the dirt with each step.

  “I gotta talk to the kid,” he said, waving Annabelle away. “We’re not setting up the tent today. First performance is tomorrow night.”

  “Tickets or gas and supplies?” she asked.

  “Gas and supplies,” he replied.

  “Does supplies mean food?”

  “You really want to eat whatever these people are eating?” he asked. “You get a good look at them? I don’t want to put nothin’ in my mouth that they’ve touched.”

  “Point taken,” she said with a sigh.

  Telly waved at her again. “Okay, okay, just go find something to do, Belle. I gotta talk to the kid for a while.”

  Her mischievous smile soured. She offered Telly the middle fingers of both hands then doffed an imaginary hat at David and left. “Go find something to do,” she muttered, as she walked away.

  Telly seemed oblivious. He set the walking stick against the massive front tire of the truck and took a seat on the running board. “Alright, kid, cop a squat, would you?”

  David had no idea what cop a squat meant, so he sat down on the ground.

  “Close enough,” Telly said. “So you’ve had a little time with us, chatted with a few people. How are you feeling about it? Still want to be a clown?”

  David took a moment to consider his response. Probably best not to say everything he was thinking. “I don’t know how I feel,” he said. “I mean, everyone seems to hate me, and they all keep telling me I should go home.”

  Telly nodded, sticking out his lower lip. “Do you want to be here?”

  David shrugged. “Not sure. I don’t want to go home, though, I know that.”

  “Don’t want to be here, and don’t want to be there,” Telly said. “That’s a heck of a conundrum, kid.”

  David sighed. “But if they all hate me, why did they fight Vern when he tried to take me back?”

  “Eh, that had more to do with Vern than with you,” Telly said, then caught himself, seemed to realize the possible effect of what he’d just said and laughed awkwardly. “But these clowns do come through in a pinch, believe me.”

  “Nobody seems to like anybody here,” David said. And, yes, he had caught Telly’s meaning. They hadn’t been defending him from Vern. They’d simply been lashing out at an irritant. “Gooty hates most of you.”

  Telly reached out, grabbed his walking stick, and laid it across his lap. “Look, you know how it is with families. Close quarters and hard times put the best of families on edge, but it doesn’t mean we don’t like each other. We’ve been through a lot, but we stick together no matter what. When the chips are down, they’ve got your back. That’s how it is with family.”

  David said nothing to this. That was not his experience with family at all. Close quarters had meant he could rarely escape the wrath of Vern, and hard times had only added to his punishment. They had never liked him, Mama or Vern, he had no delusions about that. In the best of times, he was a pest. In the worst of times, he was the enemy. When they complained about him, whether to his face or to each other—and he had heard every complaint through the thin walls, soaking up every cruel word—it was because they truly did not like him. No well of affection was tucked away in a dark corner under all the curses.

  “So when you hear them complaining,” Telly continued, oblivious to David’s chain of thought, “just remember, they’re blowing off steam. Let it go.”

  “Okay,” David replied.

  “Good, enough about that,” Telly said, and a wave of his hand signaled the change of subject. “You get a look at that guy, Hess?”

  David nodded.

  “You hear what he said about guns?”

  “No guns,” David replied. “He said no guns in West Fork.”

  “That how it was in Mountainburg?”

  “Yeah, supposed to be,” David said. “If one of the councilmen found a gun, they would confiscate it, but Vern had an old hunting rifle in a crate under his bed. He didn’t have any bullets, as far as I know. He only showed it to me once when he was drunk.”

  “Why do you suppose they outlaw guns in all of these border towns?” Telly said.

  “I guess because they don’t want people getting shot.”

  “Maybe,” Telly replied. “But maybe what they really don’t want is word getting out that the border towns are armed. Maybe it would draw the wrong kind of attention.”

  “From who?”

  Telly frowned. “From who? From Tockland.”

  “Oh, right. Gooty said something about that place.”

  “People in these towns want to keep a low profile,” Telly said. “That may work to our advantage.”

  “How so?”

  Telly shrugged. “If anything goes wrong, people wanting to keep a low profile are less likely to overreact.”

  “What would go wrong?”

  “Well, if we piss off the wrong people, for example,” Telly said. “We’re like gypsies, kid, wandering from town to town. People like us, and people hate us. Rubes will cheer for you with one breath, and cry for your blood with the next.”

  David didn’t know what to say to that, but he had an image of a red-faced Vern screaming, I’ll wring your neck! I’ll tear your eyes out and skin you alive!

  “Why are you telling me this stuff?” David asked.

  Telly sniffed. “Things you oughta know, kid. Just things you oughta know. But let’s talk about you. You’re not here to sweep up the peanut shells and paper with Gooty, right? You’re here to be a clown.”

  David nodded and attempted some appearance of enthusiasm.

  “Great.” He pointed with his walking stick to an open space between the truck and trees. “Show me that flip-flop move again.”

  David picked himself up. His stomach felt better, but he was still a bit wobbly. He did a couple of brief stretches, bending down and touching his toes.

  “Round off into a back handspring,” he said, taking a few steps back.

  “Let’s see it,” Telly said.

  David took another step back, stretched his arms up over his head and went for it. Three quick steps, then he flipped, twisting in mid-air. He landed on his left hand, kicked his legs up over his head, landed on his right hand, and the momentum carried him into the handsprings. The first one was clean, the second less so, and the third a mess. His feet slipped out from under him, and he flopped onto his back, narrowly missing the trunk of a tree.

  “Perfect,” Telly said.

  “Not perfect,” David replied, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head. “I lost it at the end.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Telly said. “Alright, just needed to make sure I still had something I could work with. I’ve been putting together an act for you, kid. Something good, real good. Rubes are gonna love it.”

  “I can do more than back handsprings,” David said. “I’ve practiced most of the book.”

  Telly waved him off. “Later. Later. We’ll get to that. Okay, kid, I just needed to know I made the right choice. Look, clear me a spot on your busy calendar and pencil me in for an hour or so in the morning. Lesson one, Introduction to Clowning. Got it?”

  “Um…I don’t have a calendar,” David said, then caught the joke and smi
led, embarrassed.

  “Fantastic,” Telly said, hopping to his feet. “Class starts tomorrow. In the meantime, find something to occupy yourself. Don’t go wandering off. You saw the townsfolk when we were passing through? It’s not just Hess. There are scabs in all directions.” He shook his head and started to leave.

  “Is it safe to be here?” David asked.

  “Of course it isn’t,” Telly said over his shoulder. “It’s not safe to be anywhere. But if we can keep the rubes applauding, they won’t attack.”

  Chapter Six

  Whiteface, Auguste, Contra-Auguste and Ringmaster

  A thin mist lay low upon the ground early the next morning, stirring in the cold, damp air. David stood in the doorway, debating whether or not go back inside for a second shirt, but then he heard the soft sounds of people—boots crunching on loose asphalt, whispered voices. He walked around the front of the truck and spotted them in the distance. Hess had his hat in his hands, the long scab on top of his head visible even from thirty yards away. He stood with eight or nine others at the place where the road crumbled into gravel before entering the campground.

  David eased back behind the truck, but Hess turned to one of his companions and said something. The companion nodded, and they turned and left. David waited until they disappeared around a bend in the road before stepping out into the open. He wondered how long they had been standing there, staring at the trailers. Maybe they were just excited, he told himself. Excited rubes waiting for their first clown show. Excited, worm-sick rubes. The thought was not comforting.

  He walked out into the open, listening carefully in case the locals returned. A flock of early morning robins took flight at his approach. In the distance, David heard the faint gurgle of water, as of a nearby stream. It was a landscape very much like home, the same trees, same birds, even the same smells, yet he felt like he was standing on another world. A few hours’ drive north of Mountainburg and it might as well have been a flight to the moon.

  “Kid, you’re kind of freaking me out.”

  The voice, coming from behind, startled him so badly that he almost took off running. He spun around and saw Cakey standing at the back of the performers’ trailer, half in shadow, his hands clasped in front of him. Still in full make-up—did he, in fact, ever remove it?—still in a clown suit, though he had traded the shiny patchwork suit for a gaudy yellow number with fat, puffy buttons.

  “What are you doing over there?”

  “Just…looking around,” David croaked, but too softly to be heard.

  Cakey tapped his ear, shook his head, and waved David over. David sighed and walked closer.

  “What are you doing over there, kid?” Cakey asked again, when he got closer. “Looking for an escape route? Because if so, it’s that way.” He pointed past David’s shoulder to the road. “Head that way, and you’ll get back to the highway. I wouldn’t recommend traipsing off into the forest. You’d never be heard from again. It’s full of wild animals and devils.”

  Cakey had an odd light in his eyes. David had noted it before, but it was stronger now—a glint of madness. His breath reeked of alcohol, and his clown wig was in disarray, as if he had slept on it.

  Cakey leaned in close, stuck a gloved finger in David’s face and said in an almost-whisper, “There are very few safe places left in the world, and soon there will be none.”

  “I wasn’t looking to escape,” David said, edging away from him. “Did you see the people standing over there?”

  “Eh,” Cakey said with a flip of his hand. “The rubes want to leer at us. So what? They can’t wait to rip us into pieces and dance on the blood. You know that, right?”

  “No…I.…Rip us to pieces?”

  The corners of Cakey’s mouth curled upward, turning slowly, very slowly, from a frown into a smile, a smile that did not touch his eyes. “You have no idea what’s ahead, young’un. If you did, you’d run screaming all the way back to your bedroom in Mountainburg.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, I daren’t speak it,” Cakey replied, gasping and pressing a hand to his mouth in mock horror.

  “For God’s sake!” Telly stepped out onto the porch, leaned over the railing and snagged a fold of Cakey’s clown suit. “Would you shut up and get back inside, sleep off the cheap booze you’ve been drinking. You’re not gonna scare the kid away. He’s a permanent addition.”

  Cakey lowered his hand and rounded on Telly, the smile dying on his lips. “You should have consulted me before you hired him.”

  “You keep saying that, but I don’t answer to you,” Telly replied. “I don’t answer to any of you. If you don’t like my decisions, you either suck it up or go your own way. Doesn’t make a difference to me. But I’m the boss around here. I don’t need any consultation. Got it?”

  Cakey nodded once, slowly, eyes half-lidded. “It is gotten. Pardon me for forgetting my place, boss. When the devils gush out of the darkness and with raving teeth rend the flesh from our bodies, it will be you, the boss, and not any of us, who owes this kid an apology.”

  “Ah, shut up,” Telly said.

  Cakey nodded again and walked up the steps into the trailer, closing the door behind him so gently it scarcely made a sound.

  “Ignore him,” Telly said to David, slipping under the railing and hopping down off the porch. “Cakey is mentally damaged. And a gigantic dumbass.”

  “Okay,” David replied. The sickness had returned with a vengeance, churning in his guts like hot poison. He wrapped both arms around his stomach and clamped down tight.

  “Come on,” Telly said, striding past David. “Let’s go out a bit where we won’t be bothered by drunks and morons. It’s time for class.”

  David followed him across the campground. Telly tested the ground at various spots with the sharp end of his walking stick, found a firm grassy patch that he seemed to like and sat down. With his stomach hurting, David did not feel like sitting. Besides the pain, he had restless energy, so he started pacing. Finally Telly snapped his fingers and patted the ground, and David sat. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and buried his chin in a vice between his legs.

  “Let’s get started,” Telly said, setting the walking stick aside. “Alrighty, take notes. I’m gonna explain how things work in the clown business—in this clown business, anyway.”

  “Take notes?”

  “It’s just an expression. Pay attention.”

  “Okay.”

  Telly seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment, then spoke. “First thing you need to know. Clowns have ranks. All clowns are not equal. At the top of the food chain is the whiteface clown, that’s the highest rank. Write that down. It’ll be on the test.”

  Knowing the joke now, David forced a smile and nodded.

  “Great,” Telly said. “Onstage, whiteface clown is the boss. He’s the smart one, the bully, orders around the others. In our troupe, Cakey is the whiteface.”

  “I thought you were the boss,” David said.

  “Don’t get confused,” Telly said. “I’m the real boss of this organization. We’re talking about the onstage roles here, nothing more. Cakey has a little trouble making the distinction sometimes, but I got no problem reminding him. See that you don’t forget it.”

  “Got it,” David said.

  “Now, whiteface is at the top. At the bottom, you’ve got the auguste,” Telly said. “The auguste clown is typically the dimwit character, the goofball, the idiot. Whiteface likes to slap him around, harass and threaten him, maybe toss a pie in his face. Karl is our auguste clown. He plays a character called Touches. Onstage, Touches takes a lot of crap from Cakey. That’s how it goes.”

  “Karl is pretty huge,” David said. “He doesn’t have to take crap from anyone, I wouldn’t think.”

  “Onstage and offstage, kid,” Tell said, waving him off. “I told you, don’t get confused. Now, in between the auguste and the whiteface, you’ve got the contra-auguste. Contra-a
uguste is typically trying to win the whiteface clown’s approval, caught in the middle, you might say. Annabelle is our contra-auguste, performing as Bubbles.”

  “Got it.”

  “As for me, I’m the ringmaster,” Telly said. “The ringmaster’s job is to keep the other clowns bouncing off each other. A manipulator but never a victim. That’s me. And that ends lesson one. Now, did write all of that down?”

  “No, but I got it,” David said, tapping his forehead. “Whiteface is the highest rank, then contra-auguste, then the auguste at the bottom, and the ringmaster is manipulating them all.”

  “Exactly,” Telly said, reaching out and patting David on the shoulder. “You learn quick, David. That’s good, real good. Now, look, we’ve got a bunch of routines all worked out, and we do pretty much the same routines every show. You’ll get sick of them, but that’s the way it goes. I’ll work you into the show gradually, but for tonight, I just want you to watch and pay attention to the interplay of the different clowns. Whiteface, auguste, contra-auguste, ringmaster. See how those roles play out.”

  “I can do that,” David said.

  “Good,” Telly said. “But don’t worry, you won’t be sitting out long. I’m working up a whole routine for you. We’ll talk about it in more detail later. You’ll be an auguste clown, of course, but I’ve got some specific ideas. It’s gonna be a lot of fun, and when the others see how much the rubes love it, they’ll be glad I hired you. Trust me, kid.”

  “Okay,” David replied. “Can’t I just do my gymnastics routines? I don’t have to be any rank of clown at all.”

  “All we got around here are clowns,” Telly said, picking himself up and retrieving his walking stick. “Don’t worry, we’ll put all that gymnastics to good use. It’s gonna be wild, kid. They’ll all love you.”

  David nodded.

  “Well, that’s it, then,” Telly said, leaning on his walking stick. “Unless you got any questions, class is dismissed.”

  David considered. “Actually, I do have one question, I guess.”

  “Ask away,” Telly said.

  “Well, it’s not about the performance.”