At the foot of the mountain, there was a tent. And it wasn’t a camping tent. It was a two-pitched, yellow-and-red big top tent that could probably be seen from space it was so bright against the green background.
“Don’t tell me she ran away to join the circus,” muttered M.
“It’s not the worst idea,” said Evel. “I mean, you don’t stay in one place too long. You keep everyone you know close and make sure they all travel with you. And if the radio stations are missing here, you can bet that there’s no cell phone tower around to ping any incriminating information about you. She’s probably safe and sound there. Are you sure you want to pull her out?”
M was quiet. The wind whistled around them as the truck coasted downhill and finally started to pick up speed. “I can’t leave her here. It’s too dangerous.”
“M, what if you’re the one bringing the danger to her?” asked Evel. “I mean, I’ve known you for, like, barely two days and look at me now.”
“Evel. Shut up,” M said flatly. “We’re all in danger now. And the only way we can stop it is if we work together. So whether Jules wants to see me or not, I need her. Because without her, we’re all …” She drifted off. The truck rattled noisily along as the empty cargo bay behind them echoed the wobbling walls like shuddering thunder.
Suddenly the radio sizzled to life with an ominous jolt of guitar solos from a classic power ballad. “Well, then!” cried Evel. “It looks like we’ve reached some form of civilization. Just in time to get out of the car and risk our lives … again.”
They let the radio fill the silence between them as their drive continued down the mountain. Several songs later the radio eased back into a static-fuzz as the road leveled out. They’d made it over the pass, but whatever radio connection they’d briefly had was out of reach once more.
“Pull over here,” M said, pointing to a nook in the forest.
Evel gently turned into the trees and the slick ride of the road switched over to the choppy bumps and snapping underbrush of untouched earth. He drove carefully between the tree trunks until the road behind them was out of sight. He found a set of woods with a thick canopy overhead and parked. “This should hide the truck well enough. We’ll walk from here and hope we don’t have to get back in a hurry.”
M nodded and jumped out of the front seat. She led the way toward the circus tent as Evel trailed behind her. Music echoed through the hollow, booming bass that sent a low-end BUMPH bouncing around their heads. When they finally reached their destination, they were met with humongous speakers set up on stilts in a circle around the perimeter and aimed outward.
“Are they trying to ward off evil spirits or turn the forest creatures into party animals?” yelled Evel over the blasting music.
They moved forward, under the speakers and toward the back of the large tent. Once they were beyond the speakers, the music strangely quieted.
“Hmmm, directional speakers,” noted Evel. “You don’t see that at many traveling carnivals in the middle of nowhere.”
“What’s a directional speaker?” asked M.
“It channels the sound in one area only,” explained Evel. “Listen. We’re out of the speakers’ path, so the sound stays out there.”
M and Evel continued on to the edge of the woods, where they discovered a caravan of trailers and trucks parked beside the giant yellow-and-red tent that stretched into the sky. M nodded toward the makeshift town. “This must be what they call the backyard. It’s where the circus acts live and get ready for the show.”
As they talked, a man walked out from behind an eighteen-wheeler truck that probably carried the tent when it was broken down. He laid eyes on the two kids immediately and waved, very friendly-like. “Afternoon, ma’am. Sir,” he said. “If you’re looking for the entrance to the show, it’s ’round the other side. This here’s the behind-the-scenes area. VIPs only, I’m afraid.”
That voice — M had heard it before, and it made her turn as white as a ghost.
Evel could tell that something was wrong with her so he spoke up first. “Thanks, mister. That sure explains a lot. My sister was looking for the elephants, only I told her that circuses don’t do the elephant thing anymore on account of it’s just so downright cruel. Let’s go, sis. Mom is probably going out of her mind looking for us.”
Evel waved a thanks, we’re okay now wave and started walking away, but M remained frozen in place. He turned and pulled her toward the front of the tent. When they were far enough from the backyard area, Evel steadied M. “All right, are you going to tell me what that was all about?”
“That was Terry,” said M, stunned.
“Oh,” said Evel sarcastically. “That explains everything.”
“He was my limo driver.” She paused. “Well, not my limo driver, but he drove me in a limo when I interviewed for the Lawless School. He works for Lawless. But he usually drives large rigs from town to town.”
“Like an oversize tent. Well, that’s great,” Evel grumbled. “So much for the element of surprise.”
“He didn’t recognize me,” said M, regaining her composure. “I think we’re okay.”
“Let’s get inside, anyway,” said Evel. “We don’t need you running into anyone else from your past. Except Jules.”
The entrance of the tent had a giant dirt parking lot in front of it filled with what must have been every car that had blown by M and Evel while they had been inching up the mountain in their mail truck.
“Good thing we didn’t bring the truck,” joked Evel. “Then we’d be in real trouble.”
M fell in with a line of people waiting to buy their tickets. The circus tent had no billboard. There was no grand announcement of what this place was or what acts were likely to be found inside. A single booth stood between the outside world and the tent’s beckoning interior.
“Two, please,” M told the man in the booth. He looked half asleep as he took Evel’s money and handed over two red-pink ticket stubs torn in half.
“Enjoy the show,” the man said dully.
“World’s worst carnival barker, if you ask me,” said Evel as they walked inside.
The tent was bathed in an otherworldly glow due to the evening Kentucky sun casting through the red-and-yellow fabric. Two giant tent poles held the roof aloft, which created three separate rings on the ground where the performers would act, while the audience sat around them, coliseum style.
M scanned the crowd. It was mostly made up of families out for an adventure. Children with bags of popcorn and parents with bags under their eyes, but everyone was smiling. “This,” she marveled. “This is real.”
“Wait, is this your first circus?” asked Evel.
“Yep,” admitted M. “And probably my last. Let’s keep watching for Jules.”
The area was lined with ushers waiting at every aisle to guide people into the seats. One helped them find a pair near the lip of the center ring just as the master of ceremonies stepped onto his sandy stage. The ringleader wore a tall top hat with a blue suit jacket and tails that added to his grandeur.
“You didn’t come to hear me yackity-yack, did you?” he screamed to the audience through a megaphone. The audience replied with a hearty “NO!”
“Then feast your eyes upon the aerialists above you,” the ringleader called out while looking up. The audience followed his gaze and there were a set of trapeze artists already swinging toward each other. “And remember, if they fall, we couldn’t afford a net. So do your best to catch them if they tumble your way!”
Evel studied the room. “Hey, there really isn’t a net!”
The aerialists floated effortlessly to and from each other on the trapeze, coming together and apart with a clap of white chalk every time. M strained to see their faces, but the artists wore masks over their eyes to add an air of mystery. She watched their body movements, how they gripped the bar and how they flung their bodies out into the void.
“Wires,” she concluded. “There’s no net because they’re
wearing safety wires. That’s not Jules. Safety wires aren’t her style.”
“No way they’re wearing wires,” complained Evel as he squinted upward.
“They’re loose. Attached to the belt of each performer,” confirmed M. “Hard to see, but they’re there.”
Then each of the aerialists seemed to make a mistake. They both flipped at the same time, passing each other in the air. However, instead of catching the trapeze in front of them, they each missed their targets and fell gracefully toward the audience. The crowd screamed and gasped in shock, but their fear turned to applause as the wires caught and both artists soared majestically like angels just inches from the packed house.
“Told ya,” said M.
“You’re the kind of person that ruins magic tricks, aren’t you?” said Evel.
“There’s no such thing as magic.” M noticed the ushers had all left through the front entrance. “It’s all science, smoke, and mirrors. And this place is full of smoke and mirrors.” She tugged on Evel and pointed to the front entry. “I want to show you what happens while the locals ooh and aah over the trapeze artists’ shtick.”
Every usher in the tent was slipping out of the entrance and into the parking lot.
“Where are they going?” whispered Evel.
“Casing the cars in the parking lot, I’m guessing,” said M. “Looking for cell phones, maybe. Credit cards. Anything the drivers won’t notice is missing until later, and will think they just misplaced.”
The ringleader walked back into the center court. “Ah, my friends, what better way to laugh together than with a car full of clowns!”
A teeny-tiny car drove through the left ring while honking a horn that blared how-WOO-ga, how-WOO-ga. It pulled over and the small side door opened. Then the clowns poured out of it, one after another after another until twenty-five of them had emerged wearing rainbow wigs, painted faces, and oversize hobo clothes.
They fell to the floor, stumbled over one another, and tossed handfuls of glitter around.
Evel shivered. “I hate clowns. How can so many creepy things fit into one tiny car?”
As the fools performed, the ringleader called out again, “And now, the Byrds will fly sky high on a wire so thin, you’ll swear they are walking on air!”
The clowns stopped clowning around and everyone in the audience looked to the top of the tent once more. Three people were poised above the audience in white leotards. M couldn’t make out their faces since they wore masks like the previous aerialists. Then the smallest of the three darted across the wire, showing no hesitation or fear. The performer flipped, bounced, and twirled through the air, landing each time on the tightrope as steadily as if she were walking up a set of steps.
“Is that her?” asked Evel.
“If that’s not her, I’ll eat my hat,” answered M.
“But you’re not wearing a hat,” he pointed out.
“Then I’ll eat that clown’s hat,” said M as she watched the tightrope walker dance fifty feet above them. The room went quiet. It was as if the entire audience was holding their breath seeing Jules skip through the air with the greatest of ease. A smile warmed across M’s face. She’d done it. She’d found Jules, and Jules was alive.
“You’ve got a visitor,” said Evel as a clown eased in next to M and put his arm around her. M smiled politely at the painted-faced fool with a giant red nose, but she tried to ignore the situation. The last thing she wanted to do was draw unnecessary attention to herself by being the butt of a joke. But the clown wouldn’t move.
While Jules performed more feats, M’s eyes cast over the circus floor. She counted twenty-five clowns out on the floor. That was a problem. Because the clown sitting next to her made twenty-six.
The impostor grabbed M’s wrist tightly and whispered in her ear, “On my go, head for the clown car before this big top gets blown down by the big bad wolves.”
M nodded and faked a laugh. From somewhere far away, M could hear the telltale signs of helicopter blades beating through the sky. Then an explosion of wind rushed through and the walls of the tent flipped up, exposing an army of Fulbrights waiting to charge.
Evel slapped M’s shoulder and pointed toward them. Then someone in the audience gasped loudly as the unexpected gusts shifted the tightrope violently. M looked up to see Jules falling limply to the ground. She made to jump forward and help her friend, just as Jules had helped her in the Box when they first met. But the clown’s grip squeezed her wrist powerfully.
“Freeman, I said on my go!” he snapped. Except that he wasn’t a he. The clown was a she. A she named Zara Smith — M’s former roommate and sometime rival from the Lawless School. “You were never very good at taking orders.”
An invisible wire snapped to life and held to the tightrope walker, who bounced in midair like a caught fish. The mask fell off to reveal a person M had never seen in her life.
“But where’s Jules?” M asked herself.
“GO!” screamed Zara.
M whipped around in time to see a steady stream of magblast waves ripping through the air. The Fulbrights were firing their specialized weapons that used magnetic pulses to attack their enemies. And it looked like the Fulbrights hated clowns, too. ’Cause they were taking out every last one.
On Zara’s cue, M took hold of Evel’s arm and ran for the clown car. Wind bursts crushed around them. M knew enough to dodge the blasts, but there were so many she felt like she was being pummeled by a tsunami. Her legs slipped out from under her and Evel floated off the ground. The world suddenly flipped over forcefully and the dirt floor became the sky. Luckily Zara was next to M and caught her wrist. When the swirling blast calmed, she fell to the ground with a thud, Evel landing on top of her in a heap.
“Human kite time is over, M,” Zara called out. “Get in that car now, before —”
A long, deep cracking sound moaned and M realized why Zara wanted inside that clown car so badly. The big top was going to come crashing down. M scrambled with Evel toward the car. A set of clowns battled with the Fulbrights with handkerchief whips that lashed at the intruders. Bright flashes and bangs erupted where there was once only a ringleader and a room full of suspense. The audience was running for the exits now, too. It was mass chaos and the car was surrounded by people scrambling in every direction.
“Where are we going?” yelled Evel.
M jerked him down to his knees as she dropped down, too. “Make yourself small and get to the clown car.”
They crawled through the crowd unnoticed. The magblasts had stopped for the time being, which meant the Fulbrights had moved on to hand-to-hand combat with the clowns. When M and Evel finally reached the car, they climbed inside. The entire interior was gutted down to the metal frame. There were no seats, just a milk crate placed strategically behind the steering wheel. And every window was painted except for a slit over the driver’s-side windshield.
“So that’s how they fit so many people in here,” guffawed Evel.
“No jokes. You know how to drive this thing, right?” M insisted.
“Sure?” Evel said unevenly as he sat on the crate, started the engine, and peered through the small, unpainted opening in the window. “I mean, I can’t see anything, but let’s hope for the best, I guess.”
The driver’s-side door swung open and two clowns stood staring at M and Evel. One of whom was Zara.
“Oh, no way you’re driving, Ronin,” snapped Zara as she pushed Evel into the open trunk space. He fell backward with a clunk. Then she tossed the other clown in and climbed onto the crate, revving the car to life. “Hold on to something solid, everybody. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride!”
With the crowd out of the way, the clown car tore through the remaining fighters and aimed for the back of the tent. Fulbrights fired magblasts at the car, but Zara somehow played each blast against the other, bouncing from one attack and using the second attack to balance the car. But each hit rattled the clown car’s frame and sent the passengers careening into e
ach other. Finally, the car ripped through the tent and into a field of trailers. Zara went to turn on the headlights, but there were none.
“I can’t see anything, Freeman,” yelled Zara. “You know what to do.”
Without thinking twice, M kicked out the front windshield just as she had done in London when they were chasing Ms. Watts. “I don’t like déjà vu, Zara,” said M.
“Me either,” said Zara as she shifted gears. “But I can deal with it if it means we get to live another day. Now get down so we’re not so conspicuous.”
M started to say, “It’s a clown car!” but Zara zipped away just as the main tent pole finally split apart behind them and fell in on itself. Weaving around the trailers, the car dodged the spotlights that shone down from the helicopters overhead. Finally, the car broke through the backyard and headed for the woods.
“Plug your ears, everyone!” screamed Zara as the dark forest came closer and closer. The wind howled through the open windshield as they rushed to the other side of the directional speakers. Suddenly a low tone pulsed through M’s body that made her want to vomit. She clutched her hands against her ears, trying to block out the horrid sound. Evel turned green and folded over with dry heaves. Meanwhile the other clown, who up until now M had disregarded, leaned his head against the painted window.
Kentucky trees were shadows in the night, lit only by the roving helicopter lights, but Zara drove on like a sonically guided bat. Even she didn’t look so well, though. The giant speakers were powerful, far reaching, and far retching. Evel was the first to upchuck. M was a close second.
“Ugh!” coughed Zara next. “The things I do to save the world.”
Some distance into the woods, when the sickening rumble of the speakers was out of earshot, the car pulled over. It was hissing steam from under the hood and smelled awful inside. Zara helped the other clown out and sat on the wet ground. M and Evel slouched out of the car, too, and took deep breaths of fresh mountain air.
“How?” asked M as she regained her composure. “How did you find us?”
Mayhem Page 6
