Time froze in the small hospital lobby. The Townies all stiffened in their seats, eyes wide and mouths gaping at the sight before them. Women grabbed their children and drew them close, fearing for their safety. Conversations stopped abruptly, unfinished sentences hanging off their speakers' lips and chins like dangling strands of verbal spaghetti. Even the normal, everyday sounds one would expect to hear in a hospital (babies crying in the nursery, patients shouting for their medication and the rush of answering footsteps) stopped, creating a long and awkward moment of silence. Jonesy shifted the weight of Lionel's limp body in his arms and looked around the room for help, waiting for a response. But nobody dared move. It was like the eerie beat in between a lightning strike and a thunderclap, Sophie thought. She just wondered how long it was going to be before the BOOM!

Not long, it turned out. Seeing carnival freaks -free of their tented confines and out wandering through the town in broad daylight- was too much to handle for one old woman and she screamed. Her eyelids fluttered once or twice and then she fainted back in her chair.

The children all began crying at once. Several people leapt from their chairs and scrambled out of the room. "For God's sake, cover your face!" a man angrily yelled to Lila as he coaxed the old woman who fainted back to consciousness. In all the excitement, Lila had forgotten to put on her veil. She snatched it from her purse and draped it across her cheeks.

A doctor -tall and thin, late fifties, wearing a name badge that identified him as "Garcia" - approached Jonesy with a sour expression on his narrow face. His short, gray hair was slicked back against his skull, accentuating his rat-like nose and beady dark eyes, and when he spoke, he stood a good arm's distance away, as if the Carnies were a virus he didn't want to catch. "You can't bring him in here."

Samson pushed through the group and firmly planted the tip of his cane down upon the floor. "Sign outside says this here's a medical establishment. Our friend needs help."

"He's dying," Jonesy snapped, taking a step towards the doctor. "And the longer we stand here flappin' our lips, the worse his chances get of living through this!"

"Looks dead already," Garcia took another step back. "You people need a morgue, not a hospital."

"Don't say that!" Gecko cried, tears streaming down his leathery cheeks. Lila took him into her plump embrace.

"Had a heartbeat last time I checked. So are you gonna help us or what?"

The doctor glanced at the patients sitting around the room. Get these monsters out of here, their faces all seemed to be pleading. Children cringed at the sight of Gecko and Samson, burying their faces deep into their mothers' bosoms, trying their best to hide from the horrors of Nature's cruel mutations. "Look, you're upsetting these fine people---"

The Professor interrupted him, accusation heavy in his voice. "By that remark, Sir, you insinuate we are not."

The blind man made Garcia nervous. There was a particular air to him; something he couldn't quite put a finger to. He had the arrogance of someone with wealth; of Old World Money -an Aristocrat, perhaps- who had traveled to America in pursuit of a fortune but had instead fallen victim to the Great Depression. His coat was made with the finest thread, his aftershave no doubt an expensive, imported brand. And even though he couldn't see the man's eyes through his dark glasses, the doctor felt them staring at him, burning a hole through him. Garcia stammered when he spoke next. "I'm sure all of you are decent, God-fearing folk and I'm awfully sorry about your friend, I really am, but---"

"If it's money you want, we got it." Samson dug into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of Sawbucks. He waved them in the air to Garcia. "Name your price."

Garcia crossed his arms and shook his head. "There's a hospital in Tulsa. They might see him there. In the meantime, I'm going to ask you to leave."

"Please," Sophie begged. Perhaps the doctor would respond to a female that didn't have more facial hair than him; a female that could pass as normal in the outside world. She walked over and stood next to him so that he could smell her skin cream. "We don't have time to take him to another town. If we don't get him some help -here, right now- he's gonna die. Please, Sir, I'm begging you. You're a doctor. Help him."

The doctor eyed her for a long moment, considered her words, wondered what she looked like naked, and was just about to give in and help when he happened to glance behind her and caught sight of Gecko with his weird, scaly face and dirty locks of matted hair. The spell was broken immediately. "I'm sorry, Ma'am. But this hospital has very strict rules about cleanliness and sterility. No Freaks allowed."

"YOU'RE the Freak, you BASTARD!" Gecko spat and made a move to jump the man. He wanted nothing more than to hurt this asshole, to rake his sharp nails down across his face and split his skin open, to spill his blood across the hospital's 'clean and sterile' floor. Sophie and Lila pulled him back, holding onto both his arms as he struggled to free himself. Tears surged down his cheeks and he collapsed back against Lila's round frame.

"Thanks for nothing, shithead!" Jonesy snarled and whisked around back towards the front door. Several women gasped at his profanity and cowered lower in their seats. The group turned and started to head back out. All but one. Lodz remained where he stood. Sophie tugged on Jonesy's arm and everyone stopped to see what he was going to do.

"You comin' or not?" Jonesy asked the Professor.

Lodz shook his head. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up later."

"What do you got in mind, Lodz?" Samson asked.

"I'm going to have a little chat with our friend here. Don't worry about me, I'll find my way back."

The smile that crawled across the Professor's lips told Samson and the others exactly what they needed to know. No one objected. Jonesy wished he could stick around and watch Lodz do what he did best but Lionel's time was nearing fast and they needed to get going. He didn't know where this hospital was in Tulsa -hated driving somewhere without an exact destination- but he had no choice. He nodded, pushed the others ahead of him out the door.

Lodz turned back to Garcia and asked, "Is there somewhere we can speak?"

"Whatever you got to say to me, you can do it right here."

Lodz shook his head. "I prefer we do this in private."

Jonesy was lifting Lionel's body onto the back of the pickup when a woman's voice called out: "Mister? Excuse me, Mister?"

Everyone turned to see a young girl emerge from the hospital doors and come running towards them, holding on to her white, triangular nurse's cap so it wouldn't blow off her head. She was pretty, Sophie thought. Shoulder-length brown hair, soft, white skin, full round lips, curves in all the right places. She reminded Sophie a little bit of Libby Dreifuss and that wasn't altogether a bad thing.

"What do you want?" Jonesy hissed. Her youthful beauty had no effect on him. She was nothing more than another cruel and inhumane Townie. Dirt had more appeal.

"I know a place you can take him. It's a lot closer than Tulsa."

"That so? What do you care if he lives or dies? Didn't you hear your boss in there? We're just a bunch of freaks."

Sophie grabbed Jonesy's arm. "Clayton, stop. She's trying to help us."

It wasn't often Sophie used his first name and the effect was like a splash of cold water. He respected her, didn't want to make her upset, so he shut his yap and focused on securing Lionel's body for the trip.

"Where do we go?" Sophie asked the young woman.

"There's a man by the name of Cleveland. He attends to people's …special… needs. You can get help there."

"He a doctor?" Sophie asked.

The girl shrugged. "So he claims."

Jonesy couldn't help himself and interjected, "Claiming something don't necessarily make it so. I work for the carnival. I know this first hand."

Gecko reached out and took Jonesy's arm. "He doesn't have much time. Let's go see this man she's talking about."

"It's your call," he said and Gecko nodded eagerly. "Alright then. We'll go."

Sophie asked, "How do we get there?"

"Bout three or four miles down this road, you'll come to a fork. Take a left and go for another mile or so. There's a dirt road that shoots off to the right. You'll see his mailbox. It's painted red. Take that dirt road and you'll end up at his front porch. There's a bunch of trees blocking his house from the main road so you won't see it but it's back there. Trust me."

"Thank you," Sophie smiled. "We appreciate it."

"Any time," the nurse smiled back. Something passed between them, some jolt of electricity that both immediately felt and recognized. Both of their faces flushed simultaneously, their cheeks reddening as if some invisible hand were applying too much rouge to the both of them. Then the nurse broke eye contact and took a few steps back so Jonesy could start the truck. Sophie settled into the back of the bed with the others and as soon as she sat down, Jonesy put the truck into gear and pulled away. The two girls watched each other as Jonesy rolled out of the hospital lot and turned right onto the main road. For some crazy reason, Sophie raised her hand at the last minute and waved. The nurse waved back and then turned around and walked back inside the hospital. She was nice, Sophie thought, unable to hide her smile. I wonder what her name was. Suddenly, she became self-conscious of her behavior and glanced over at Lila. The bearded woman was still consoling Gecko in her arms, but her eyes were on Sophie. She nodded with a knowing smile. Sophie looked away, guilty and ashamed.

Lodz stood at the window in the doctor's office and listened to his friends leave outside. He waited, made sure they were on their way, then turned slowly towards Garcia. He could smell the man's cheap cologne slowly drying on his neck, the soap he used to clean himself. And just below that, the distinctive scent of perspiration. The doctor was nervous. Good.

"You don't scare me," Garcia said, trying to mask the deep breath he was exhaling.

Lodz shuffled towards his voice, an unsettling grin on his face. "You say one thing but your heart says another. I can hear it, you know. Beating in your chest like a bird's. Pitter-pat, pitter-pat, pitter-pat."

"I'm not sorry for what I did out there, so if you're looking for an apology---"

Lodz continued walking towards the man, the smirk on his lips growing larger until it took up the entire bottom half of his face. "An apology? Heavens no, what would I do with one of those? You were absolutely correct in your diagnosis, Doctor. Why should I hold that against you? Lionel's been dead for hours. Brain asphyxia due to an obstruction in his throat." He slid a finger across the top of Garcia's desk and held it up, displaying the thin, powdery layer covering its tip. "Dust. I hear it's a real problem in these parts." Lodz grabbed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his finger clean. "His friends see the last few twitches in a dying body and cling to the hope that he might still be revived. I may be blind, but even I can see the utter foolishness in such a notion."

"You sure don't sound very sorry that he's dead."

"Not surprising when you consider that I was the one who snuck over to his trailer in the middle of the night and opened his bedroom window." As a demonstration, Lodz raised his walking stick and quietly slid the office window open with the end of it. A hot breeze blew in through the curtains, clearing the way for a thin, brown cloud of dust to enter the room.

Garcia raced over to the window and slammed it shut. He coughed on the dirt, then spun around to glare at Lodz, utter shock on his rat-like face. "You just confessed to murder."

"Thus setting into motion the chain of events that would bring me here to your hospital, to this very room, so that you and I could have this wonderful …exchange…of information."

"I should call the police."

"Yes, you probably should. But you won't. Not until I get what I've come for."

"And what's that?"

"Something you have in your head. Give me your hand."

The doctor backed away from Lodz's outstretched arm. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Completely. And now I want in yours!" He lunged forward and grabbed Garcia's arm before the man had time to react!

The doctor struggled, tried to scream for help, but Lodz's other hand was suddenly squeezing his throat, cutting off his air supply! Good God, this man is strong, Garcia thought to himself as he grappled with the Professor! Incredibly strong! He's overpowering me! The man's dark glasses got knocked off in the shuffle and fell to the floor, revealing his eyes for the first time. Clouded by cataracts, they looked like twin pools of milk beneath his graying brows. Lodz put his hand over the doctor's head, his fingers gripping hard onto the man's skull.

Even though his pupils no longer worked, Lodz was still able to "see". All he needed was a simple touch to set this gift in motion and the world opened up to him: with a firm handshake, he could glean a man's most private thoughts and memories. With a friendly pat on the back, he could "hear" conversations held years ago, "experience" the thrill of the happiest day of his life as well as the pain from his saddest. But best of all, the greatest benefit of this gift, was that no secret was too buried. Adultery, molestation, thievery, murder -he saw it all. Nothing could be hidden from him that he couldn't find. He was a thief and nothing more, this poor, blind man; invading people's heads, stealing their thoughts, and never leaving a single trace behind of his presence.

And right now, he needed to "see" what Doctor Garcia had locked up inside of his head. Apparently, this hayseed in Knauff, Oklahoma knew something that Management needed to know; something that Management had asked Lodz to find out. Killing the Alligator Man's lover was nothing more than a way to set the great wheel of fate into motion.

"Relax, Doctor. As the old saying goes: this won't hurt a bit," Lodz said, opening his mind to the flood of images that began pouring in. Garcia's life flashed before the Professor's eyes like a deck of cards being shuffled and laid upon the table. "What do you know that's so damn import--" He stopped, the word unfinished in his mouth, as an image -old, so old it was barely able to materialize- unveiled itself from the dusty corners of the doctor's mind. "Yes! That's it! I do believe that's the one I'm looking for." Lodz grinned.

Management will be happy.

to be continued!