G-157

by K. M. Malloy

  “Oh,” he said, frowning as he took a step back.

  “Don’t you ever get strange urges like that? To reach out and touch someone like no one else does?”

  Troy shook his head. “No. Holding hands and giving hugs is all we do with others.”

  Her eyes moistened, and she looked away, her voice strained as she fought to keep her composure. “Really? You don’t ever feel strange around me? You don’t want to do anything more than hold my hand?”

  Troy shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to upset you, but, no, I don’t ever feel like that. And,” he said, lifting her chin to make her look at him. “I’m not judging you either, just like you didn’t judge me.”

  “Okay,” she nodded.

  “Come here,” he told her, and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t be upset. I don’t think you’re a weirdy. See you tomorrow?” Aire nodded. “Ok, have a good night.”

  “You too.” She watched him from her porch until he disappeared around the corner, tears slipping down her cheeks as she stood alone in the darkness.

  ***

  The clock ticked its way closer to midnight as Jenkins paced across his home office, swirling his third glass of scotch in his hand. He’d been drinking more these days, something exceedingly hard to do in a place where alcohol was forbidden. He chuckled at that. Ironic that liquor was illegal in a town that had a main road named after an 80 proof whiskey. So far he’d managed to cover up the occasional hangover with excuses of stress, fatigue, or allergies on the really bad days when his eyes were still bloodshot well after lunch time.

  It wasn’t just the hangovers he had been worried about as of late. It was what they would think. He could be discharged from his position if he didn’t rein in the habit. He gave a shiver at the thought. There were still five years left on his contract. “Only five years,” he said to himself and shook his head. Had it been worth it? At the time it seemed like a good deal. Thirty years of service with a retirement house in Aruba, or ten years in prison with a dishonorable discharge. Now he wasn’t so sure he’d made the right choice.

  He raised the glass to take another drink. Only a few watered down droplets and bits of melting ice met his lips. “Damn.” He went to the desk to refill his glass, his feet beginning to fumble as he walked across the room. There was only half a bottle left, and he couldn’t order more until Monday due to the Moto. He frowned as he poured the bottle. He’d been certain he had another one left in the cabinet. He couldn’t have gone through three in the last week, could he? Maybe he did. This damn place was beginning to take its toll on him, haunting him in his dreams and driving him to drown the demons of the past, and those which he knew were still to come.

  Jenkins pulled the key to the fridge hidden under his desk and squatted down to unlock it. No sounds of rattling glass were heard as the door slammed against the wall to reveal the empty shelves inside.

  “Damn,” he mumbled again, and swung it shut. He didn’t know if he could hold out until Monday, especially after the events of the last few days. Maybe he could make a special request to Mike Hadley and have him place a stat order early tomorrow morning. The boy was new to the job and would probably go ape shit over the important task. Mrs. Jacobs had done such things for him before. She’d started to become suspicious of why he was ordering his “special water” in such large amounts over the last few months, but he didn’t have to worry about Mrs. Jacobs anymore. No one did.

  He shuffled across the study and sat down in his easy chair. Mrs. Jacobs. He could understand Mrs. Jacobs having to be taken. She was older. The older ones were bound to be taken at some point, and they hadn’t had an incident in nearly a year. But the boy tonight? It didn’t make sense for the younger ones these days. It was like in the old days in the beginning, and the old days had been bad.

  He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and sighed. Something had to be happening. They shouldn’t have had to take two within a week. In the beginning, though it had been stressful, it made sense. John’s Town was still struggling to gain its foothold then, though it had been operation for fifteen years before he made that deal. But it had been peaceful for years since then, and now to have two in a week? He shook his head. Something was very wrong, he could feel it. Taking a pen and pad of legal paper from the end table next to the chair, he jotted a note to himself to request a report first thing Monday.

  Chapter Ten

  John’s Town

  In the beginning…

  In the beginning John’s Town did not have The Moto. It did not have anything. But just a short time after its founding it was decided that something was needed to occupy the people.

  In the beginning it was thought that security, peace, and friendship were the only things needed to keep the people happy and content to stay in the city. But it wasn’t enough. The weekly disposal of crispy, rotting bodies tangled in the electric fence surrounding the city proved that.

  They came up with the carnival.

  The thinking at the time was that if they could give the people something to look forward to every year, then there would be less of a desire for them to leave since there was an event to spring hope. For a short time it seemed to have been effective, and over a year period the body count along the fences had been reduced by seventy-five percent. Brenda McAllister and Jenny Rockford changed that.

  The carnival came to John’s Town the second week of June, and for that one week out of the summer the entire town shut down its mundane day-to-day and came alive with enchantment.

  What had once been the woods of Duck Park that had been burned down by the fire started by Ronnie Tillman several years before was now a sprawling, grassy meadow to the west of Duck Pond. It was here that the carnival would be set up. Flood lights, yellow lights, blue lights, red lights, green lights, all colors and sizes and shapes of lights would blaze across the meadows at night, lighting the tents and game booths and rides and side shows. Tilt-a-whirls and ferris wheels and fun houses with croaking witches and comical zombies would light the park ablaze. Carnies called out amidst the sounds of laughter and aw, urging passersby to toss rings over milk bottles or ping-pong balls into fish bowls. Smells of corn dogs and fry bread hung thick in the air. It was all so enticing, so intoxicating, that Brenda McAllister and Sarah Rockford just couldn’t help but get lost in the magic of it all. It was the unicorn that ultimately did them in.

  Brenda and Sarah were wide eyed at the magic of the carnival, just like all the others. It was the third year of it, and they were celebrating ending their last year of “baby school” by eating as much cotton candy as they could stand (Sarah had three puffs already, Brenda five) as they looked with the bright eyes of youth towards their new future as young adults in the realm of high school. Yet even with their changing bodies and heightening awareness of the world around them, childhood had not yet forsaken them, and they were still enchanted by the little girl fantasy of the unicorn.

  They passed by the ring toss booth and through the open space between the rollercoaster and sea dragon on their way to the side show booths when they saw the sign. Both looked to each other with their blue and sugary mouths wide open.

  “We have to go,” Brenda said, her eyes glittering from the luminescence of the lights and from wonder.

  “Definitely.”

  They hooked arms and scuttled across the grass towards the blue and gold striped tent. Both sucked in their breath as they stepped through the entry way and rounded the corner.

  The unicorn stood quietly behind the makeshift wooden fence, and the girls found themselves alone with the mythical creature. Its albino white body looked shimmery silver under the tinted bulbs strung above its pen. Blue flowers were pinned in its thick mane and braided tail. Its eyes were soft and brown as they stared at the girls from beneath its two foot horn. Brenda’s eyes sparkled with tears. Sarah’s hand covered her mouth.

  “It’s so beautiful,” Brenda whispered.

  They stared at the animal for a long
time, mesmerized by its majesty.

  Sarah reached out her fingers to stroke its velvet neck. “I wish we could stay with it.”

  “Me too,” Brenda nodded, reaching out her own fingers to its neck. “I wonder how they caught it. All the books say unicorns only appear to young maidens. Do you think it was tricked?”

  “No. Unicorns are too smart to be tricked.” She tilted her head to the side in ponderance as she scratched at the animal’s withers. “We could, you know.”

  “We could what?”

  “Stay with it.”

  “How?”

  “Tonight is the last night of the carnival. We could sneak out before the sun comes up and hide in one of the trucks. We’d be long gone from here by time they noticed us missing.”

  Brenda turned to regard her friend, her face strained in puzzlement. “But when they do find us they’d probably bring us back home anyway. What good would that do?”

  “Where is your sense of adventure?” Sarah asked as she whipped her head around. “Brenda, it’s a unicorn for cryin out loud. Don’t you think spending your life taking care of a unicorn is worth getting into a little bit of trouble over?”

  “True.”

  “And look on the bright side. They might actually want us to stay and take care of it.”

  “Why would they want us to do that?”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Because the carnival is run by a bunch of big stinky men and unicorns need a lady’s touch. Duh.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s true too.”

  “So really, we’d be doing them a favor by being around. It would help keep the unicorn’s magic. Why wouldn’t they want us to stay?”

  “You’re right,” Brenda smiled. “We should do it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “Let’s do it. We could meet by the hidden fishing rock in the morning and figure out how to sneak onto the trucks from there.”

  Sarah let out a squeal and clapped her hands. “Okay, we’re gonna do it. We’re going to run away with the carnival to be unicorn keepers.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday March 19, 2010

  Population: 404

  Friday morning Aire’s eyes were the last open in John’s Town. The rest of the city would be alive and bustling as they watched their young children in the Pee Wee and Pip Squeak races. Their jovial mood would carry into the night as the setting sun marked the beginning of the carnival with all its delicious treats and games. But laughter and carnival rides seemed so silly and far away now as thoughts of Dustin weighed on her mind. She stared blankly across her room, forcing a smile and happy thoughts.

  Furious banging on her door knocked the smile from her lips.

  “Aire,” her mother said. “Are you at least getting up in time to watch your brother race?”

  “Crud,” she muttered, dreading the thought of getting out of bed and having to waste a day watching little kids fall over their bikes. “Yeah, I’m getting up now.”

  “We’re ready to go so I’ll see you up there. There’s muffins on the counter for you, and I packed a picnic for you and Troy. Bye, honey.”

  “Okay, bye,” she said, groaning as she kicked off her deep purple comforter. She sighed, rubbing her face before standing up. At least she’d be able to have lunch with Troy. One thing to look forward to, she thought.

  Fifteen minutes later, Aire walked back into her room clad only in a towel. Melissa was sprawled on her bed reading a motocross magazine. She’d thrown the comforter back on the bed and replaced the throw pillows. She’d even put the books on Aire’s nightstand back to their places on the shelf, and tossed the dirty laundry that covered her floor into the basket in the closet.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Melissa motioned towards the window. “The boys are outside.”

  Aire glanced at the open window and jumped sideways into her closet. “Why?”

  “I figured you would be naked since you have the house to yourself. I saw your family leave.”

  “No, I mean why are you at my house? I thought we were meeting up at the track?”

  Melissa put the magazine down and sat up, her brown eyes somber as they looked up at her.

  “I wanted to be the first to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Well, you were really worried about Dustin last night, so I wanted to be the first to let you know.”

  “Let me know what?”

  Melissa began tracing the yellow pattern of butterflies frolicking about the comforter with her finger.

  “Let me know what?” Aire repeated.

  “Well, Dustin was…Dustin was recruited last night.”

  A shiver ran down her spine. They only come at night.

  “What?” Aire shook her head. “What do you mean recruited?”

  “Recruited means that the Army-“

  “I know what recruiting means,” Aire snapped. “I mean, how could they possibly do it last night? It was so late when that happened. It’s not like they just show up at your door at midnight and take you away.”

  “Yes they do,” Melissa said. “That is exactly what happened. Raymond Butcher told me he saw it from his house across the street.”

  “But they can’t do that. Dustin was only fourteen. They can’t take minors into the Army.”

  “Yes they can. They’re the government. They can do whatever they want.”

  “That’s ridiculous. They can’t just take kids. Older people, maybe. But kids?”

  “They took my brother.”

  “What?” she said, her breath catching in her lungs. Forgetting her modesty, Aire sat down on the bed next to her. “They took your brother?”

  Melissa nodded. “His name was Sam. He was eight years older than me. I was really little when it happened and don’t remember much. All I do remember is him acting funny just before it happened, and then one night after dinner the Army came and took him away.”

  “Oh, Melissa, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “It’s okay,” she smiled. “The Army is a good thing. It keeps us safe and free. We should all be happy to make those sacrifices. It’s not a big deal. That’s why I never mentioned it.”

  “Yeah but, that meant he was still a boy. He was like what, eleven? Twelve when that happened? What could the Army want with a little boy?”

  “Hey! Are you ready yet?” Gary called from the street below.

  “No,” Aire shouted back. She turned back to Melissa. “Did they say why they needed him?”

  Melissa shook her head. “No, they never do. But the Army is a good thing. It keeps us safe and free and we should all be happy to make those sacrifices.”

  “Hey, ladies, come on,” Troy shouted. “We’re going to miss my little brother’s Pip Squeak race.”

  “He’s right, we should get going,” Melissa said. “And you’re going to miss Mitch’s race too.”

  “Oh crud, I forgot about him,” Aire groaned as she slapped her forehead and rushed to find clean clothes to throw on while Melissa went downstairs to wait with the boys.

  Ten minutes later she was putting her hair in a ponytail as she came down the stairs to meet Melissa, holding the picnic her mother had packed as they tramped across the lawn towards the boys. Gary’s eyes perked up at the sight of the wicker basket.

  “For me?”

  “No,” Melissa scowled. “It’s Aire’s. And Troy’s.”

  “That’s so nice of you,” Troy smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Well, actually my mom made it,” Aire said.

  “Well thank you both then,” he said as he reached out to take the basket from her. “Let me carry this. It’s the least I can do for the ladies of this fine establishment.”

  “Thanks.”

  A mild heat wave had passed through Duck Park, sparking the excitement of the day’s events and the happiness the first hints of spring always bring after a season of shivering through bundles of jackets and coats
. The electricity of life filled the air as toddlers ran around the patchy brown and green grass, and parents rushed about herding their youngsters to their upcoming events. Dogs followed their owners in obedience amidst the bustle, their tongues flopping out as they went from canopy to canopy to visit. Aire laughed when she was nearly knocked over by the Parker’s Shepherd as it chased after a stick tossed by their three-year-old.

  The first day of The Moto was for children five to thirteen. Everywhere miniature bikes revved and pinged and crashed and narrowly escaped clipping any by passers on their way to the kids track on the east side of the pond. The small group laughed at the tiny helmets and trash talk from high pitched voices as the grade-schoolers bet Pogs and marbles on who would win that day. Troy and Gary found their little brothers in amicable rivalry and escorted the boys to their tent areas while Melissa and Aire parted ways to find Mitch, agreeing to meet back up in the west section of the grand stands before the Pee Wee heat race.

  “Hey, buddy, are you excited?” Aire asked when she spotted her family’s yellow and teal pop-up canopy.

  “I’m way excited,” Mitch said.

  “Good, me too,” Aire said. “When does your heat race start?”

  “In ten minutes. You’re way late,” Mitch scolded.

  “I know, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s cool. I already warmed up my bike and gave it a once over.”

  “That’s great. Well we’re going to get good seats. Good luck, booger.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Now, you listen to me,” their mother said after the announcer called Mitch’s division to the starting line. “I want you to be careful, understand? Do your best, but don’t push so hard you get hurt, okay?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Mitch grumbled as he put on his helmet.