DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.
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"Step right up! See the Amazing Blue-Blooded Man! The only one in captivity!"
"Captivity?" Ben lifted the tent flap and leaned out to protest. "Hell, Stumpy, I never agreed -"
Stumpy ignored him. "Got yer knives, folks? You need them knives, 'cause you gotta cut him to see the blue blood."
"Wait! What are you doin'?"
Stumpy chortled. "Ain't it obvious? C'mon, folks. Hottest attraction this side o' the Rockies! Don't worry 'bout hurtin' him - he heals quick!"
Ben stumbled backward; there was no chance of escape. Rubes swarmed into the tent and flung themselves on him. He glimpsed a dozen military-issue trench knives in the moment before they began ripping his flesh.
"Nooo!" he screamed. At first he tried desperately to fight off his attackers; then he gave up and curled into a ball, burying his face in his hands. As he wept, he could hear Stumpy laughing.
Then a woman's voice cut in. "Ben. It's all right. Open your eyes. Just open your eyes an' look at me."
No. If I open my eyes the buzzards'll peck them out.
The woman must have heard his thought, because she said gently, "There ain't no buzzards here. They've all flown away."
O' course, he realized. There ain't no buzzards. No rubes with knives neither. If I open my eyes the pain will let up, an' I won't be bleedin'. I'll be safe with Ruthie.
He slowly uncoiled himself and lay on his back, despite the agony that accompanied every movement. They ain't cuttin' me no more, that's for sure.
He opened his eyes.
But the woman standing over him wasn't Ruthie.
"Sofie?" he whispered.
A monstrously changed Sofie. Demon-black eyes blazed in her pallid, masklike face...just as they had in Justin Crowe's.
God, no. It can't be!
As he struggled to sit up - still in pain, bleeding from countless wounds - Sofie leered at him. "Fee, fie, foe, fum. I smell the blood of" - she cocked her head, looked at him appraisingly - "definitely not an Englishman.
"I wonder what it is? I'll have to dissect it and find out!"
Then he saw Justin's scythe in her hands.
She began gleefully slashing him - making longer, deeper wounds than any caused by the knives. He fought frantically, trying to seize the scythe or at least push it away.
But then he was grabbed from behind, and a man's strong hands pinned his arms. Almost at his ear, he heard Justin's demonic laughter.
The blind Lodz strode into view. "Cut his eyes out, Sofie!" he urged. "Give them to me!"
"Ben! Can you hear me? Ben, I'm scared. This has gone on too long. You have to try to wake up! Please, please, keep tryin' to get your eyes open!"
Ruthie...?
He'd thought his eyes were open. But he was confused by the intrusion of this new, blessedly familiar voice.
"C'mon, Ben. It's nine o'clock, light streamin' in through the windows. You gotta wake up!"
And suddenly, he did.
He was sitting on the trailer floor - having evidently fallen out of bed. His nightshirt was soaked with sweat, but there was nary a trace of blood. He knew at once that the man clutching him from behind was Gabriel. And the scratches on Ruthie gave mute testimony as to why Gabe had thought it necessary to restrain him.
"I'm okay now," he said weakly. 'Cept that I can't stop shakin'. "Sorry I scared you. It's over."
Ruthie took him in her arms and held him. Gently, she asked, "Was it the buzzards again?"
He remembered, with shocking clarity, the dream image of a demon-Sofie.
He said, "Yeah. It was the buzzards."
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Overruling his feeble protests, Ruthie got him back into bed and gave him a sponge bath. She looked just about as shell-shocked as he felt. All his nights since New Canaan had been visits to hell; but the torment began at sundown, and normally ended at daybreak. This nine o'clock business is gonna stop, he vowed.
By the time she'd finished bathing him he felt a little better. He insisted on getting up, and managed to dress without help. He didn't have to shave; he was letting his beard grow. Gabriel was dispatched to the chow tent, and returned with breakfast for all of them: orange juice, bacon, fried potatoes, and coffee.
Ben wanted only the coffee. But for Ruthie's sake, he forced himself to consume some of everything. Through sheer force of will, he got it down without retching - and kept his face from betraying the new, searing pain in his gut.
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By 10:00 a.m. he was sitting at Ruthie's vanity, staring at the mirror. Trying to visualize the message she said had been written there, in lipstick: "Sofie is the Omega -L."
Ruthie said softly, "I know what you're thinkin' about. I'm sorry I mentioned it. It don't make no sense at all. An' the last thing I'd want to do is make you think bad things about Sofie."
Ben shook his head. "No, you were right to tell me. It's gotta mean somethin', an' it could be important.
"But there's no way Sofie could really be the Omega. Like I told you, 'Omega' is the last letter o' the Greek alphabet" - he himself had only learned that from his boon - "an' what it means to us is the last Avatar.
"All Avatars are male. Even if they weren't, the only way there could be an Avatar alive now, besides Justin an' me, is if it was his child or mine. Sofie sure ain't my child, an' I can't see her bein' the child of a preacher an' a Gypsy fortune-teller who lived thousands o' miles apart.
"Here's a question I ain't thought to ask before. Was the handwritin' on the mirror yours?"
"No," she said at once. "Nothin' like it."
"So Lodz was really possessin' you while you slept," Ben continued thoughtfully. "He warn't just promptin' you to do the writin' - he was doin' it, usin' your hand.
"An' later, when he tried to strangle me that same way, his eyes were clouded. Ghost or not, when he was possessin' you, he was blind."
Ruthie nodded. "Yeah, I s'pose he was. What does that have to do with it?"
"Just this. It couldn't o' been easy for a blind man to find your lipstick an' write a message on the mirror. An' he couldn't check what he wrote. What if he left a word out?"
"O' course!" She was nodding vigorously now. "I can see that happenin', easy. Can you think of a way the sentence makes sense, if you put in an extra word?"
Ben pondered the problem for a few seconds, then said slowly, "Yeah. I think he intended to write 'Sofie is with the Omega.' She prob'ly was with Justin by that time, an' Lodz may o' known it."
Frowning, Ruthie asked, "Why would he put it that way? Why not a straightforward 'Sofie is with Crowe'?"
"The message had to be meant for me," Ben reflected. "The only one apt to be here, with Management gone, who'd understand the word 'Omega.'
"I'd seen Justin Crowe in dreams an' visions. But I didn't know he was usin' that name till I saw his picture and an article 'bout him in a newspaper Stroud left behind in Cheyenne. His real name is Alexei Belyakov. Even if Lodz knew both names, he had no way o' knowin' which one I'd recognize.
"It seems more natural to me to call the Tattooed Man 'the Usher,' rather than 'the Omega.' But Lodz ain't me."
Ruthie smirked. "Can't argue with that!"
Ben was still thinking aloud. "Lodz wanted me dead. He wanted me to tangle with Justin 'cause he expected Justin would be able to kill me.
"Let's say he knew Stroud had kidnapped my pa, an' I was tryin' to rescue him. He may o' thought that if I managed to free my pa before Stroud got him to California, I wouldn't go on. Unless I had another reason, like wantin' to save Sofie! He hoped that if I came back to the carnival, you'd tell me what he wrote on the mirror."
He felt a twinge of guilt. He'd never explained to Ruthie that Scudder had been a reluctant Prophet of Darkness. She knew only what all the carnies knew: that Justin had ordered Ben's father kidnapped and killed him, presumably to spite Ben. She hadn't pressed him to tell her more; she undoubtedly realized it was a painful subject.
What she asked now was, "Would you have gone on? Killin' the Usher was your mission in any case, wasn't it?"
He nodded. "Yeah. In fact...I won't get into the why o' this now, 'cause it's a long story. But killin' my pa made Justin stronger. I woulda had a better chance to defeat him if he hadn't done that, an' I knew it.
"But my pa always wanted to protect me. More, maybe, than he wanted to see the Usher destroyed. He prob'ly woulda tried to talk me out o' goin' on. An' Lodz knew him well enough to have foreseen that."
Ruthie looked relieved. "So that's all it was! Nothin' alarmin' about Sofie - Lodz was just tryin' to tell you where she was, for his own crappy reasons. She's back with us now, an' she knows hookin' up with Justin was a mistake. So we can forget the whole thing."
He hesitated. "I should be able to forget it. But..."
I'm sure I only had that nightmare 'cause I hadn't thought through what Lodz meant.
I'm sure.
So why do I still have the jitters?
"But what?" Ruthie asked.
"Damn it," he said softly, "I won't feel right about Sofie till I find out why she's been lyin' to us.
"She's either got a good explanation, or she ain't. At this point, I can't see no better plan than to confront her an' ask."
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He was still getting used to the fact that he was now in charge of the carnival. Samson ran it on a day-to-day basis, as he always had. But Ben was perceived as the new "Management," differing from Lucius Belyakov in that he was visible and approachable, his existence and authority beyond dispute. He had unrestricted access to the Management trailer, and could have chosen to live in Belyakov's old apartment - though given the current state of his health, Samson was doubtless glad he'd moved in with Ruthie.
What that meant in practice was that he had no need to clear his decision with Samson.
But he stopped by and told him anyway.
Samson's response was, "Want me to come along?"
Ben thought for a few seconds, then said reluctantly, "Thanks, but no. I reckon this should be a one-on-one, so's not to give Sofie the feelin' a committee's descendin' on her. An' I'm overdue for a talk with her. We ain't exchanged more'n a dozen words since she's been back."
Three weeks.
Three very busy weeks...during which Ben had told several police agencies the same half-truths he'd told the press, and had then dropped out of public view.
The carnival had played three California towns before reaching this one in Nevada. It was drawing crowds everywhere because it was the carnival, the one associated with the catastrophe in New Canaan. No one seemed to fear that its proximity would cause thousands of their community's citizens to drop dead.
Samson announced at every stop that healer Benjamin St. John wasn't with Carnivale "at the moment" because he was "making a spiritual retreat." Ben knew that line implied he'd be back, knew he could have insisted Samson phrase it differently. He wasn't sure why he hadn't.
Sofie had become their Tarot reader as soon as she'd been able to buy a new deck; she was even billing herself as "Queen of the Gypsies." She'd declined to challenge Lila's claim to Lodz's old trailer, and seemed content to live and give readings in a tent.
" 'Bout all we've said to each other," he admitted, "is 'glad you're okay.' Okay as in 'not dead.' It's past time I tried to find out why she ain't dead."
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He paused outside Sofie's tent, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Can't be no later'n eleven. No chance she'll be givin' readings this early...
After debating his approach for a few seconds, he called out in what he hoped was a cheery voice, "Anyone home? It's me, Ben. Pretend I'm knockin', okay?"
Sofie replied at once, "Oh, yes - c'mon in!"
She came to the tent flap to greet him. She didn't throw herself into his arms, as she had in New Canaan. But she did reach out shyly to clasp one of his hands. On some level, he'd feared she actually would have the ghastly appearance he'd seen in his dream; to his relief, her freckled face looked as open and earnest as ever.
"Come on in, Ben," she urged. "Sit down." As he did, she rattled on, "I'm so glad you came! I've wanted to talk to you, but, well" - her lip quivered - "after the things I've done, I was afraid you wouldn't want to talk to me. I understand now that you're special, like Management was, and you're running the carnival. I'm so grateful you took me back!" Tears welled up in her very normal-looking eyes.
Ben didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. Feeling a need to console her and put her at ease, he said quickly, "You're one o' the Carnivale family, Sofe, always will be. Hell, you were here years before I was."
"But the way I left..." She seated herself opposite him at the table she used for readings, shaking her head as if appalled by the memory. "That was wrong. Then I refused to listen to you in New Canaan, when I'd known you a lot longer than I had Brother Justin. I should've trusted you. And in the end, my damn-fool behavior got Jonesy killed!" She choked back a sob, and Ben clumsily patted her hands.
Before he could ask more about Jonesy, she said, "God, I'm so embarrassed. When I think how you and I actually made love, and I took off without even saying goodbye! I'm g-glad" - another hint of a sob - "you're happy with Ruthie now."
He let that comment go unanswered. If she's hopin' I'll say I ain't happy, or ain't with Ruthie for keeps, she'll hafta be disappointed.
But there is a point that's gotta be settled.
"I was sorta worried," he admitted, " 'cause I didn't use a rubber when I was with you that night."
Sofie stared at him for a minute, as if she didn't understand what he was talking about. Then she said, "Oh, shit. You were afraid you'd knocked me up?"
He must have winced, because she continued quickly, "Sorry about the language - that's how Mama always described it. No, Ben, you didn't get me pregnant! I had so many other things on my mind that night that I didn't give pregnancy a thought. And my period started a couple days later, so I never had to worry about it. I'm sorry you did."
He heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn't thought there was much chance she was pregnant, but it was good to know for sure. "I'm thankful it turned out that way," he told her. "I have reasons for not wantin' to bring a child into the world."
He hadn't realized that - realized he truly didn't want one, with her or anyone else - till he heard himself saying it. But it's true. I never want to be in the spot my pa was in, havin' to decide whether the best way to protect my kid is to desert him.
Since Sofie had brought up the subject of the way she'd left him, he decided to pursue it further before questioning her about Jonesy. "There's somethin' that's puzzled me, Sofe. I'll be honest here - I wouldn't have agreed to leave Carnivale with you if you'd waited till I got through seein' my pa in Damascus. But it must o' seemed to you that you'd have another chance to convince me then. A better chance. I'd never said nothin' to suggest I meant to settle down in Damascus an' run a pig farm! So why didn't you wait till I got back?
"An' then - how the hell did you wind up, so soon afterward, with Brother Justin?"
Sofie leaned back and crossed her arms. She was frowning, apparently lost in thought. "You know," she said after a few seconds, "what happened seems strange, when I look back on it. I did mean to wait for you. And when I was talking to you, I had no idea where I might go. I just felt I'd had it with the carnival.
"After you went off to help Jonesy" - she gulped at saying the name - "I turned the radio on. To get some music. But what I heard was Brother Justin's Church of the Air. He seemed like such a good man! And there was something about his voice...he seemed to be talking to me, calling me, personally." Shifting uncomfortably in her chair, she added, "When I got to New Canaan, I found out most of his followers felt the same way."
Ben had gone rigid. "My God. I read, later, that he was a radio preacher. But he was based in California. You're sayin' you were able to hear him when we were in Nebraska?"
She nodded. "Yep."
"H-how'd you know where to find him?" It couldn't o' been that easy, it couldn't!
"He gave an address where people could send contributions," Sofie explained. "All I remembered of it was 'Mintern, California,' but that was enough.
"I had a little money, 'cause the carnies had chipped in to help me after the fire cleaned me out. So I hitchhiked to the nearest railroad station and went straight to Mintern."
By now Ben was only half listening. He was stunned.
My God. What if I'd been there to hear that radio broadcast with her?
I know I woulda recognized his voice, from what he said in the vision Belyakov gave me. An' he was tellin' the world his name - the one he was really usin' - an' his address!
That woulda shot down Belyakov's excuse for needin' to see my pa. Would I have insisted on givin' up the search for him? Or would I have kept on, when I'd got that close, to satisfy my own curiosity?
Even if I stopped, had I already led Stroud so near him that he woulda found him anyway?
Not needin' my pa woulda ruined Belyakov's plan for trickin' me into killin' him. What would he have done? If he'd leveled with me an' asked me to kill him, could I have killed an old man in his condition?
S'pose I couldn't. Would he have agreed to drain me an' prob'ly kill me, to strengthen himself to fight the Usher? If he did, would he still have been able to go through with it if he learned "Justin Crowe" was his son?
Whatever else happened, I coulda told Sofie that Crowe was evil. Kept her from bein' involved at all...
"Ben?" she was saying anxiously. "Are you all right?"
"Oh - yeah." He grimaced. "Just thinkin' how different things might o' been if it hadn't rained that night."
Shaken as he was by what he'd just learned, he knew he had to address the problem that had brought him to see her. "Sofie," he said heavily, "I know you've had a hard time. But there's somethin' I gotta tell you. An' ask you.
"You've said you caught the last Carnivale truck leavin' New Canaan, an' passed out in it. But the truck where Bert found you warn't the last, till they got moved around while we was stopped for repairs. We know for a fact that you got a later start from New Canaan an' caught up with us, drivin' Stroud's car. Don't try to deny it - I saw the car.
"So we know you've been lyin'. Will you please, for God's sake, tell me the truth?"
Did you leave Jonesy behind when he might o' been alive?
Are you coverin' for me 'cause you think I killed him, an' seventeen thousand other people?
Or is it worse that that? Do you know I killed them? Tell me an' get it over with!
Despite the ghostly writing, despite his nightmare, he couldn't imagine Sofie herself as a killer.
The blood had drained from her face.
She was silent for a minute, eyes fixed on her tightly clenched hands.
Then she looked at him, took a deep breath, and said steadily, "All right. I'll tell you what really happened.
"When Justin turned on me, he had Stroud tie me up and lock me in a shed. Up in the hills - it was a higher elevation than his house. Nowhere near the camp in the valley.
"Stroud left me there. Later, he came back in his car. But unknown to him, Jonesy was hanging onto the car - he'd heard Justin give Stroud orders to kill me. He got the drop on Stroud and knocked him out." Her eyes misted over. "It was so noble of Jonesy to take a risk like that for me! He told me he was newly married to Libby. That made it all the more amazing."
Shaking her head, she continued, "We tied Stroud up, 'cause we didn't want to kill anyone. But another of Justin's goons showed up, in a second car. He hit me on the head and thought he'd knocked me out, but I was really just dazed. Then..." She shuddered, and looked so distraught that Ben almost told her to stop.
But before he could speak, she blurted out, "He shot Jonesy in the head. Emptied his gun into him! He made sure, beyond a doubt, that Jonesy was dead. He and Stroud were talking about it, laughing - Stroud was conscious by then, but still tied up. The reason the bastard hadn't shot me was that he and Stroud both planned to rape me before they killed me.
"Like I said, he thought I was unconscious. I was able to get the drop on him and hit him over the head, before he'd freed Stroud." She brushed tears from her eyes with an angry swipe, as if she hated the evidence of weakness. "I couldn't find Stroud's gun - it had probably wound up in some dark corner. So to gain a little time, I locked the men in the shed. I knew they'd be able to break out, of course. I swear, if Jonesy's body hadn't been in there, I would've set the damn shed on fire! But at that point, I didn't have the strength to move the body.
"I took off in one of the cars - with the keys to both of them." Wearing a look of grim satisfaction, she concluded, "I chucked the second set of keys in the brush, far enough from the shed that the sons-of-bitches would have to walk back to New Canaan. Just sorry I left them legs to walk with."
Ben was speechless.
At first.
Then he somehow choked out, "Y-you didn't see what happened in the valley?"
"To those thousands of people? No, I was never anywhere near there."
The story was gut-wrenching.
But as Ben thought about it, he realized it didn't answer the main question.
"Sofe...I'm sorry, but I still don't get it. You've explained why you had Stroud's car. But why did you lie to us?"
She was silent for a very long time.
Then, without looking at him, she said quietly, "Shit. I hoped I wouldn't have to spell this out.
"I could simply have lied about the timing of everything - openly caught up with the carnival in Stroud's car, pretended Jonesy hadn't found me till much later than he did. But it didn't occur to me. And claiming that now wouldn't explain why I wanted to fake having left New Canaan with the carnival.
"What I've been trying to hide is the amount of time Jonesy and I spent in that shed. Which probably caused the second goon to come looking for Stroud...
"You see, after we had Stroud tied up, Libby's new husband and I spent hours making love on the floor."
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The End