DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.
Note added 12/9/06: For a full, clear picture of my latest take on Ben's killing of Justin and the events of the next day, I'd advise reading "Dead of Night," "Choices," "Proof of Life," "Retribution," and "Ghost of a Chance," in that order.
Note added 12/23/07: I should, however, explain that "Dead of Night," "Proof of Life," and "Ghost of a Chance" are in the "Look, even something as unlikely as this isn't irreconcilable with known canon!" category of fan fiction. "Choices" and "Retribution," on the other hand, reflect my actual speculation about the direction the story probably would have taken. One detail in "Retribution" has been rendered AU by later-established canon; for the correct canon, see my more recent fanfic "Trinity."
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"Describe New Canaan," Hack Scudder demanded. "Describe Crowe's home."
"Why?" Ruthie sounded as befuddled as she looked. "We're racin' to get away from the place, an' you agree that's what we should do. So why do you care what it looks like?"
He forced himself to rein in his impatience. She has every right to be confused, he reminded himself. Confused, frustrated, and most of all, scared.
The last six hours had been nerve-wracking for everyone, so hectic that Hack still hadn't found time to wash his face.
Samson, anticipating a police pursuit, had decided to split the troupe into three sections and get them onto separate roads as soon as possible - the idea being that each of them would pass itself off as an entire, small carnival. None of them would own up to having been in New Canaan, using the name "Carnivale," or ever having heard of either Samson himself or a healer called Benjamin St. John. The name "Carnivale" was painted over or covered up wherever it appeared. The Ferris wheel posed a problem: its vaunted size would be a giveaway. So parts that could be disguised as something else were divided among the sections, while its cars were hidden in a ravine, hopefully to be retrieved at a later date.
The Management trailer was now, ostensibly, part of an outfit known as "Casey's Curiosities." A man called Stumpy had been drafted to play the role of owner Mick Casey. The other sections were headed by a longtime barker named Jasper and a phony "he-she" named Bert. Samson had told Hack he'd chosen the men for their glibness, and Ruthie had confirmed that they were the best possible choices.
Police had indeed shown up, and grilled Stumpy for upwards of an hour. Apparently, he'd carried out his assignment with flying colors. Hack had helped, by using his powers to make the officers perceive this peculiar inner room as empty. Later, Stumpy had informed the group in the room - then including Samson - that his interrogators had told him maddeningly little, never explaining why they were looking for the carnival that had been in New Canaan.
By now Samson was back in the lead truck, presumably pondering when and how to go about reassembling the troupe. But Hack and Ruthie had faced another problem, when Ben began moaning and thrashing about. They'd managed to soothe him, but not before his abdominal wound had reopened and he'd lost more blood.
Yes, I should be very patient with Ruthie.
But before he could explain his interest in the settlement they'd left behind, she said contritely, "I'm sorry, Hack. I know you must have some good reason. It's just so hard for me to take my eyes, or my mind, off Ben right now..."
"I understand." The unconscious youth meant more to him than life itself. And he suspected he wasn't the only one who felt that way. He studied Ruthie's careworn face, then said gently, "You're in love with him, aren't you?"
"Yeah." She hung her head. "I s'pose you think that's awful. Knowin' I'm older than you, let alone your son."
"Not at all," he said firmly. "Love is a good thing, always. And, Ruthie, I've been able to touch Ben's mind at times. Not read his mind - but I have been able to sense that he loves you too."
"He d-does?" The tremor in her voice spoke volumes about the pain Ben had unwittingly caused her.
"Yes. He only pulled away from you because he was afraid of putting you in danger." He knew he should add a cautionary note. "It may not be a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. He may even be capable of loving two women at the same time. But he does love you..." He hesitated. Then his voice dropped to a whisper. "In a way I never could."
There were tears in Ruthie's eyes now. " 'Cause you are a one-woman man. For life."
"Maybe." He sighed, then made a face. "Or maybe it's not as romantic as all that. Maybe I just met you - and later, Becca Donovan - too soon after Flora.
"In any case, it's a very good sign that Ben was able to sip a little water." That breakthrough had come only minutes ago. "If you can get fluids into him, to make up for some of the blood he's lost, he should be able to survive without solid food till he's closer to consciousness." He didn't voice his further thought: God knows when that will be.
Aloud, he went on, "So we can stop worrying about him for the moment - and I do need information about New Canaan. I'll try to explain why. First, do you understand what I told Samson this morning? About there being a new Dark Prophet?"
"Not really," Ruthie admitted. "I ain't even sure what a Prophet is. But it was somethin' about you havin' discovered your blood is red, when you thought it should be blue."
"That's right. A Prophet is the most powerful Avatar of each of the two kinds, Light and Dark. And he has blue blood. Ben is the Light Prophet. I was the Dark Prophet - much as I hated the idea - until Justin Crowe, uh, killed me."
He wasn't sure how to explain what had come next. But Ruthie came to his rescue by saying, "An' Ben brought you back to life, somehow. Never mind how. You thought you shoulda become Prophet again?"
"Yes. But only," he stressed, "because Crowe is dead! I thought I was the only living Dark Avatar. My blood being red proves there's another one, almost certainly a son of Crowe's. He's more powerful than I am. And he could be in his late twenties, more mature than Ben."
"Jesus." Ruthie shuddered. "Okay, I can see why that's important. But New Canaan?"
"He might be there. It's the first place I should look."
It took a few seconds for that to sink in. Then Ruthie said in a suddenly shaky voice, "You're volunteerin' to go look for him?"
Hack said quietly, "I have to look for him, Ruthie."
After a pause, she gave a slow nod. "Then we should have Samson stop the convoy now, so we won't be any further away than need be when you start drivin' back."
"No." Looking her in the eye, he said steadily, "I can make a quick visit without driving back. I may be able to find out whether it's worth spending more time there. Whether there is or isn't a young man who seems to be taking over the place."
Ruthie took a deep breath. "Okay, this you gotta explain. How can you 'visit' without drivin' back?"
"Have you ever heard of...well, the term used most is astral projection. That's misleading - suggests it has something to do with astrology, and it doesn't. But it's the name that's caught on in recent years. Have you heard of it?"
She shook her head. "No."
"All right." How to explain it? "Humans," he began slowly, "possess a sort of second body, that isn't material. All humans, not just Avatars. It's like a ghost or spirit, except that it exists while the person is alive. Sometimes when you're dreaming, your consciousness may slip into that 'astral body' and drift away, actually travel somewhere. But not often! Most dreams are just dreams."
Ruthie was gaping at him - but in amazement, not disbelief.
When she didn't question that much, he went on. "Some people can learn to project themselves to other places, in their astral bodies, while they're awake. The skill comes more easily to Avatars than to non-Avatars. Though I'd guess there have been Avatars who've never done it, never heard of such a thing.
"I'm fairly good at it. But I need to visualize where I'm going, and I never saw anything back there except the shed where I was held prisoner, and a road with nothing unique about it. If you can give me a general description of New Canaan and Crowe's home, I should be able to go back in my astral body and see what's going on."
Now Ruthie had found her voice. "You can 'project' yourself out of a movin' trailer? That's all this distance from New Canaan, rushin' away from it the whole time?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"While you're gone, will I still see your normal body?"
"Yes. But I'll appear to be in a trance. Asleep with my eyes open."
"How will you get back here?" In sudden alarm, she continued, "What if you can't?"
"I'll snap back into my physical body at some point," he assured her. "Not much the worse for wear. Ideally, I'll stay in New Canaan till I will myself back. But I may lose control and snap back before I want to. If there's an emergency and you need me back, a good shake or a slap should bring me out of the trance."
"Will people in New Canaan be able to see you?" Before he could answer, she had yet another question. "Can you be hurt? Or killed?"
"They won't be able to see me unless I want them to," he said patiently. "I can make one person see me and another, standing right next to him, not see me, if that's what I want. Or I can make someone see a form that looks nothing like the way I really look." I can do those things even when I'm not in my astral body. But there's only so much Ruthie needs to know.
"About injury or death - no, my astral body can't be harmed. But my physical body can be, and it's at more risk when I'm not in it. Fortunately, I'll be leaving it with you."
They exchanged wry smiles. Then Ruthie asked, "Can you take time to clean it up a mite first?"