by Kailin Gow
Circus Summer
Circus of Curiosities Book 1
kailin gow
Circus Summer (Circus of Curiosities Book 1)
Published by THE EDGE
THE EDGE is an imprint of Sparklesoup Inc.
Copyright © 2012 Kailin Gow
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First Edition.
Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN: 978-1597480352
DEDICATION
To the White Knight, my Great Uncle, whose heroism and legend lives on today. He was a super spy who spoke five languages, a pianist, and a martial artist during WW2 for the Allies. Apparently, he was handsome, charming, and sophisticated, too, able to charm his way into the highest circle of enemy society. Hearing tales about him since childhood, inspired me to write about heroes.
To all the brave men and women who serve to make life better for the rest of us.
Prologue
Dr. Dex Hightower stood on the sand in the middle of the circus ring, milking the applause from the audience as it rose to a crescendo behind the hard plastic barriers. The tiny town of Bent Roads had plenty of people, it seemed, who wanted to see what his Circus of Curiosities had to offer. In a world with so little else, full of war and the struggle just to survive, could he blame them? Dex’s mouth quirked in a smile. He could see them staring down at him in anticipation, but he kept them waiting.
He knew what they would see. A man in his late thirties, tall and powerful enough to command their attention as he stood there, his dark hair spilling down the back of his long leather coat. The silver buckles and studs on it shone in the big top lights with every movement he made, catching and dazzling, as bright as the green of his eyes. His shirt was a deep red, the color of blood, while he wore pants of tight fitting black, with high boots that were as much about practicality as showmanship. Dex spread his arms as the applause built.
“Hello, Bent Roads!” His voice carried easily throughout the tent. “These past five days, you’ve seen wonders!”
They’d seen the genetic monsters spewed from the broken labs.
“You’ve seen strife!”
They’d seen their own children fighting and occasionally dying.
“You’ve seen the full gamut of things our broken world has to offer!”
Which wasn’t much. Dex paused again. That was the key to being a ringmaster. Not giving people what they wanted. At least not until they begged for it.
“So are you ready for what we have for you tonight?”
That got a roar that was almost deafening, and Dex whirled for a moment with his arms outstretched, drinking it all in. Despite everything, even down to the hate he felt for them for letting him do what he did, this moment was always good.
“If you’re ready, then I’d like to present to you a performer you all know very well! Already, she has fought alongside other performers from your lovely town! She has fought against them too, and she has won!” Dex very carefully didn’t mention what had happened to the losers. The audience had seen it. It didn’t need reminding. The people there were too busy cheering to need reminding. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I give you… Prima Thornsby!”
Spotlights focused on the far side of the circus arena, on an ornate entrance that looked like it was the kind of marble and gold doorway a Roman emperor might have stepped through. The fact that it was really a mixture of painted plastic and iron didn’t matter. It was what people thought that mattered.
The girl who stepped out through that entrance was sixteen, her red hair tied back into a ponytail, the glittering leotard she wore clinging to her to show off a gymnastic figure. The costumers and makeup artists had obviously been hard at work, because as well as the leotard, she wore silver gloves and boots, and her face had streaks of all the colors of the rainbow painted on. Just one more hint of show among the rest of it. She walked out with confident strides. She had every right to them. She’d done well so far.
“As you know,” Dex continued. “Prima here has come through almost all our challenges for her. Now we have just one more before she can move up to our national level of performance. Would you like to see what it is?”
The crowd roared its approval. Dex turned to Prima, who nodded her readiness. Brave girl. At a signal from Dex, assistants came forward dressed in a harlequin patchwork, pieced together from scraps. They held a selection of weapons and protective items. The girl chose a long, clear plastic sword sharpened to a razor edge, along with a round shield of toughened glass. When she’d done that, the assistants retreated while more wheeled in a large crate. Dex moved to the side of the arena, behind the barriers protecting the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the audience! Prima! I give you… the hydra!”
The side of the crate fell open, and a shape slunk from within. It was reptilian, far larger than the girl before it, walking on six scaled legs, with nine necks rising sinuously from its bulky body like snakes. The heads at the ends of those necks were snakelike as well, and as Dex watched, one opened its mouth to reveal vicious fangs.
He heard the audience’s collective gasp. He saw Prima flinch, half glancing at him to check whether it was real. It was. So very real. It and many more creatures like it. The creature seemed to sense the girl’s hesitation, because two of its heads struck out, snake fast.
Prima reacted quickly, Dex had to admit that. She got her shield up to block one of the heads, venom dripping down it to the tent’s sandy floor. Her sword lashed out, slicing through the neck of the second, sending the head flying. She stepped back, as though expecting the hydra to fall to the floor dead. Dex shook his head at that. One head wouldn’t do it. Another minute or two, and it wouldn’t even be injured. One of the gifts this one had was regeneration on a scale barely comprehensible.
Still, she’d gotten one head. Maybe the others would follow. Dex had high hopes for Prima. She had obvious talent. The only question was whether it was the level of talent they needed…
Prima spun as the hydra struck again, slamming one of its heads aside, then darting away as the creature lunged after her. She moved like an acrobat; so fast, so graceful. She dodged another strike, bringing around her sword in a simple arc to lop off another of the Hydra’s heads. The creature momentarily reared back in pain, and Dex dared to believe…
Three more of its heads flashed forward at once. Prima blocked one with her shield, and managed to get her sword in the way of another, but the third grazed her side with its fangs. She cried out, obviously holding onto her sword with an effort, and lowering her shield just enough. More heads snapped past her defenses, biting her again and again. She shrieked in sudden pain. Dex wished he could do something for her, but it was too late now. With the way the circus worked, it had been too late the moment she decided to sign up.
Prima fell back, scrambling away from the hydra on her back. The creature let her do it, as though knowing what came next. Out on the sand, the girl started to shake, and the shaking became convulsions, the massive amounts of venom in her body pumping through it with every heartbeat. Dex watched her there, not because he enjoyed it-not because he enjoyed any of it-but because he k
new he should. In just a couple of minutes, she was still, her silver costume looking far less vibrant while she sprawled lifeless on the sand.
The crowd started to boo.
Dex made a small signal, and his assistants did their job. A few moved in with tranquilizers to bring the Hydra under control and get it back into the crate. Two of the others, the ones who had brought the weapons, lifted Prima’s body and took it away.
The crowd was still railing against what had happened, some pressing against the plastic walls as they yelled their displeasure. It was always like this. Dex moved out into the center of the circus ring, standing absolutely still as he waited for silence. He got it. His presence wasn’t the kind of thing people could ignore, even if their hometown girl had failed.
He’d failed too, of course. He’d been so certain about Prima. He’d had such high hopes for her. It seemed now those hopes had been unfounded, the way they so often were. Another young performer dead in the dust. Another wasted talent. Dex shrugged, forcing himself not to think about it. In this world, people died every day, and even the hydra was better than some of the things the war did to people.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said at last. “It seems that our entertainment for this evening is at an end.”
That got another round of boos. Strange that they’d boo because more of their young people weren’t being killed, but Dex knew as well as anyone what people could be like. By tomorrow, they would probably deny that they had done it. They would probably blame him for the whole thing, until the next time the circus came to town.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry!” Dex announced. “The show will go on!” He paused for just a second to let them think about whether they wanted that. “Just not in Bent Roads. Your town has provided some very skillful and brave young performers, but we have exhausted their talents now, and none of them remain, so it is time for us to move on. I hope you will join us when we are next in town.”
He walked away through the circus, heading out through the door Prima had come through, pausing just long enough to take a theatrical bow. Behind the scenes, things were a lot less spectacular. There were wires and the remnants of machines, circus hands working hard to get ready for the finish of the show and to deal with its aftermath. The ones dealing with Prima Thornton’s body were gone, and the hydra’s crate was out of sight.
Another town. Another failure. That had happened so many times. Some days, it made it hard to remember why they kept going. Dex turned to one of his assistants, a woman in a costume of feathers and leather scraps.
“Another failure, Tia.”
She shrugged. “The crowd got their entertainment. We made money. What more do you want, Dex?”
A lot more than that, but it wasn’t something to talk about.
“Maybe things will go better in the next place,” Tia tried.
“I suppose the show does go on,” Dex said, trying to sound upbeat.
“The show goes on,” Tia echoed, with the kind of fervor everyone had in the circus for that mantra.
The show went on. The show always went on. What else was there? And who knew, maybe there would be someone better than Prima Thornsby. Dex shook his head, putting her from his mind. He didn’t focus on the ones who had failed. There were far too many of them to think about.
“Get ready to leave soon,” Dex instructed, even though he needn’t have bothered. Everyone in the circus knew not to outstay their welcome. “There’s nothing else for us here. It’s time to move on.”
“Yes, boss.”
“And Tia,” Dex said with his trademark smile, “remind me, which tiny town are we dragging ourselves over to next?”
“You were talking about Sea Cliff, weren’t you?”
Dex nodded. Sea Cliff could work. His hometown. So many memories there. Maybe they’d find what they needed, and maybe not, but either way Tia was right. They’d would entertain the crowd, make some money, and perhaps find what he was looking for. He’s searched so long, he couldn’t give up. Maybe Sea Cliff had what he seek. The show had to go on, after all.
Chapter 1
Leela
Sea Cliff
Life in Sea Cliff sucks. Well, what else can I say? That I, Leela Sinclair, think it’s the greatest place on Earth a seventeen year old girl like me could live? That life is easy, and the whole place is some kind of paradise? It isn’t. It so isn’t. About the only thing you can say for it is that the war hasn’t really hit it yet, and even that isn’t completely true. I mean, if I were another year older, I’d probably be in the middle of being drafted, like so many others are when they hit eighteen. Like my brother, Caleb.
The ones who aren’t drafted quickly find other places to go. The big cities, the towns. Anywhere that isn’t Sea Cliff, in most cases. I guess I’m not being fair but who’s fair about the place where they live? Yes, there are plenty of places much worse than Sea Cliff, thanks to the war. Places that don’t have food or running water anymore. Places where the Invaders have wrecked everything, and even the most basic technology doesn’t exist anymore.
Sometimes though, I almost feel like I want the Invaders to show up, if only because it would mean something happening. Sea Cliff’s that kind of town. They say it used to be some kind of vacation resort back in the distant past. Mrs. Abernathy showed us photographs of it hundreds of years ago back in history class. I can kind of see why people would have liked it. There’s the view out over the ocean, and the beaches at the bottom of the cliffs are beautiful. It’s probably a nice place to visit, but it’s a boring place to live.
Take my life, for example. Better yet, take just today. Out of bed early to make it to the restaurant before school and get some work in. Going back to see my mom before I head to school. Making sure my little brother Mason gets to his school okay, before I go to my classes. Coming back and then going straight out to work in the Cliff View pub and restaurant, where the same patrons will probably ogle me in the same way they did the day before, despite my age.
I’m there now. The place is a bit like Sea Cliff. It was probably great once, but it has seen better days. The wood panels of the walls are scuffed and re-painted, the tables are mostly balanced out with bits of old beermat. Frank, the owner, tries to keep it all in shape, and he has me cleaning almost every minute I’m not serving food, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. With some things, they’re just spiraling down into nothing. That’s what Mom says about the war. “Spiraling down into nothing.” Like Sea Cliff. Like her health.
I pause, looking at myself in the mirrored bar of the Cliff View until I stop thinking about that. I try to work out why so many of the restaurant’s patrons spend their time staring at me while I’m doing it. Is it just that I have long chestnut hair and big green eyes, with a heart shaped face and a nice enough smile? Is it that I have an athletic body, currently covered by the mostly black t-shirt and slacks uniform Frank has me wear while I’m here? I don’t know, but I put up with it. I can’t afford to lose this job. Someone has to provide for the rest of my family.
“Hey kid, can I get another drink here?” That’s from Bob, one of Frank’s regulars. He must be in his fifties, with hair that has more silver than brown in it these days, and a weathered face with old scars. Sometimes, when he gets drunk, he talks about the war. Not many have returned from it, and when they do, their stories about the war seems too unbelievable to be true. Bob’s drunken way of telling it doesn’t hurt, either.
“Sure,” I reply with my best smile, “but won’t Cleo be missing you at home by now?” Cleo is Bob’s wife. “You wouldn’t want her chasing you around the house again.”
Bob smiles and stands. “You’re right, I should… what’s that?”
I hear the sound too, a large vehicle, moving through the town. For a second, I wonder if maybe it’s Invaders, and I mentally run through all the drills they make us practice at school, but then I hear the loudspeakers. The Invaders don’t play music as they come, and the things they shout aren’t like
this.
“Come up! Come up! Be part of the greatest show on Earth! Join the show and win big prizes if you make it to the national stages! Earn hard currency!”
A truck rolls slowly past. I could hear the whimsical circus melody play through the speakers…playful yet sad at the same time, with the promise of sights to be seen. We don’t see that many motor vehicles in Sea Cliff; they’re one of the things the Invaders destroy when they find them, mostly. This one is a lot more impressive than the old tractor they have up on the Wilkins’ farm. It’s a massive thing, with brightly painted sides and lights that are every color of the rainbow. Frank steps out of the back room at the sound, holding an old shotgun until he realizes what’s happening. Frank’s a big man in his forties, not fat, because there isn’t enough food around Sea Cliff to be fat, but just big. Everything about him is big, from his arms to his barrel chest, to the big mane of dark hair that doesn’t quite suit him. Thankfully, that extends to his heart too. He gave me this job because he knew my family needed help, and he gives me spare food sometimes.
He sees me looking at the truck, and when I look over at him, he nods. “Be quick though,” he says. “There are customers waiting.”
I rush out, watching the truck. It rolls to a stop in the center of the town, not far from the Cliff View, and a couple of people jump out. Literally jump, like acrobats, with one performing a forward flip as she does it. They’re both dressed in clothes that seem to be pieced together from scraps and squares of other things, so that there is a patch of denim next to a leather square, or a clear patch of plastic beside what looks like wool. The overall effect seems to shift and change with every movement they make.
One of them is holding a sign, which he plants in the ground by the road so that it’s clearly visible. It says Circus Signups in large letters, while below, there’s a clipboard with a list. They stand by their sign while I approach, but they don’t say anything while I read it.
