Chapter 33: Innocence Lost at Last
"Because we're bored. And because you're a freak. Because you exist."
"You made it." Wolfgang said. "I was sure I was going to have to go in after you guys."
"I cracked the whip." Amanda said. "Lars and Ivan wanted to stay and talk to Alexi all day."
Wolfgang surveyed the group. There were only six of them. "Where's Kurt?" He asked.
"He's not here?" Lars said. "He wasn't at the show either. We figured he changed his mind and came back." He glanced around at the assembled group and all of them shrugged.
Wolfgang shook his head. "I haven't seen him."
"That's really strange." Lars said.
"He's probably at our trailer. I'll go get him." Amanda said.
"If he's gone off gallivanting by himself and lost track of time, I'll kick his ass." Wolfgang said and he mimed a swift kick to the backside. "We don't have much of a show without him."
"I'm sure he's around." Petra said. "He might even already be in the warm up tent."
Wolfgang watched them walk off in various directions, Amanda towards her trailer, Lars and Gretchen towards the Circus Gehlhaar trailer to get their costumes, and Ivan and Petra towards the warm up tent. If any of the other performers had turned up missing this close to show time he wouldn't have been worried, only irritated, but with Kurt it was different. One would have expected that someone who looked like Kurt would experience near constant persecution and assault so the fact that he had been thus far unscathed was something of a miracle to Wolfgang. Even more miraculous was that Kurt seemed blissfully unaware that such a thing was possible. But the possibility existed and someday it would happen. Wolfgang just hopped it hadn't happened today.
Wolfgang frowned and walked back to their office trailer. He didn't want to give Margali any bad news if he didn't have to. He would have to hope for Kurt to turn up on his own.
Spitting sand out of his mouth Kurt pushed himself up on his elbows and then immediately dropped back down to his chest. His right arm felt funny and when Kurt looked at it, he noticed that his forearm was bent where it shouldn't have been. He'd broken it. They were going to be so angry with him. How could he have been so stupid? He never should have left the circus festival area in first place and he certainly shouldn't have allowed himself to be left alone. He couldn't even imagine the reaction he was going to get from Margali when she saw he wasn't going to be able to perform that night.
Holding his arm close to his body and wincing, Kurt rose to his feet and looked around. The pier from which he had fallen was high above and stretched back to a point where the beach sloped upward so they met. Kurt started up the incline, his progress slowed by the sand. There were three people walking in a tight group towards him. Kurt stopped. He recognized their silhouettes and his shoulders slumped. Who are these people, he wondered. And why won't they leave him alone?
Undaunted, Kurt resumed trudging toward the far end of the beach even as the three boys approached. They started jogging towards him and Kurt stopped again. He wasn't in any mood to play games with them anymore. He had broken his arm, he was going to be in trouble, and it was these three idiots' fault.
"Why can't you just leave me be?" Kurt asked when they stood face to face.
"Because we're bored." Red spikes said. "And because you're a freak. Because you exist."
"Bored?" Kurt shouted. "You're bored! What gives to you the right…" Before Kurt could finish his sentence, he was pushed to the ground. He fell on his right arm, which until that moment had sort of settled into a tolerable throbbing ache. When he hit the ground it exploded into pain a second time, stars filled Kurt's vision and he doubled over on his side, not realizing that the voice screaming was his.
Kurt wasn't quite sure why they started kicking him. Maybe it was the same instinct that makes a predator wait until its prey is weakest before closing in. He didn't know. He looked up and there was a boot very close to his face, so close that it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did when it connected. He felt another kick to his stomach that knocked the wind out of him. Kurt covered his face with his hands and tried to fold himself into a protective ball. This didn't seem right. How bored did one have to be to commit violence like this?
He made it his singular goal to teleport to safety as quickly as possible, but every time he tried to look for a place to go, a place where he wouldn't be seen, a spray of sand or the treads of their shoes quickly obscured his vision. There was no way he could get his bearings; he couldn't even judge where the top of the boardwalk he'd just fallen from was. It was hopeless. Kurt curled up as tightly as possible and prayed.
Kurt wasn't sure if his prayers were answered or if maybe his assailants had become bored of him too, but suddenly everything stopped. He slowly turned onto his chest and opened his eyes, breathing hard and spitting sand out of his mouth. His whole body was shaking, more out of fear and adrenaline than anything else. A man in dark clothes was walking towards them swinging a short stick lazily in one hand. It took a moment for Kurt to recognize the man as a policeman, what Terry had called a "Bobby". But it didn't matter; he wouldn't be here when the man arrived. Kurt picked the most open spot in the darkness under the pier and then was gone.
Kurt reappeared on what he expected would be the ground. He hung surprised in the air for a moment and then dropped down two feet into a cement-lined ditch. He hadn't expected to fall, but it didn't matter. No one would find him down in here. Kurt turned onto his back and took a few deep breaths, the coolness of the concrete beneath him almost comforting. If his arm had hurt before then this was a whole new definition of pain. Kurt was probably the least frequently injured of all the members of Circus Gehlhaar but this was way beyond the realm of what limited experience he had. It was like it was too much to be contained in a single individual; Kurt could imagine it spilling out of him and on to the ground around him.
He intended to hide in the ditch and rest until he could muster enough energy to walk back to their tents or at least go to some place where he could ask for help. He tried to stay focused, to stay awake in case they came back. He wasn't sure what he would do if they did, but it seemed better to be ready. The problem was his mind kept wandering. One minute he was looking at the blood congealing on the palm of his hand and the next he was thinking about something he'd done years ago. Each time it happened Kurt admonished himself not to drift off again, but it was futile. What he really wanted was for Wolfgang or Lars to come find him. But how could they? They didn't even know where he was.
A shadow crossed over him in the dim light. Kurt sighed. Not again.
"Look, if you're wanting to kill me, why didn't you just to do it in the first place?" His voice was coarse from yelling.
"Now, why would I want to do that to my own son?" A voice from above him said in German.
Kurt opened his eyes and saw Azazel standing at the edge of the ditch. He was wearing a British Police Officer's uniform. That had been him walking towards them on the beach.
"Tsk, tsk." Azazel continued. "You don't call, you don't write. What has it been since last we met, three, four years? What's a father to do?"
Kurt frowned. "Is that why you're here Azazel? To tell me I don't write enough? So noted. Now go away, I've got bleeding to do."
Azazel knelt down at the edge of the culvert. "I see you've done your homework and learned my name. So, is that your choice then? You would lay in this ditch and bleed rather than come with me?"
Kurt knitted his brows. "Come with you where?"
"To my home of course. If you've done your homework you should know where that is as well."
"Yeah." Kurt said. "I know where that is." It was getting hard to talk, but he had to stay awake.
Azazel shook his head sadly. "Obviously I'm here because I see you've gotten yourself into a bit of trouble. I've come to your aid." He said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity.
"Yeah, you're really great at showing up whenever I get into trouble." Kurt said.
Azazel's expression turned stern. "Insolence isn't going to get you anywhere. Make your choice."
"You can take me back to where the tents are." Kurt said. The day's events were bad enough without having Azazel to deal with as well.
"Sorry. That wasn't an option." Azazel had stood up and now had his arms crossed over his chest.
"I'll stay here then." Kurt said.
Azazel shook his head. "I swear if I didn't see the resemblance, I'd say you weren't mine. Goodbye then Kurt."
And to Kurt's surprise Azazel turned and walked away. He suddenly felt the weight of his predicament and now the only one who knew he was there was leaving. "Azazel!" He called after him, "Can't you at least tell someone where I am?" But there was no answer. Kurt didn't want to waste his energy but he could feel his shoulders shaking as hot tears ran down his cheeks.
Wolfgang looked at his watch. This was getting ridiculous. They were in the backstage tent. Everybody was assembled, in costume, and ready, everyone but Kurt.
"Tell me where you went again? Exactly what happened?" Wolfgang said to Lars.
"We walked along the edge of the boardwalk to the end." Lars repeated, hating that he had become the spokesperson for the party that was responsible for losing his best friend. "Then Kurt wanted to stay and look at the water rather than go into the crowd for ice cream. So he stayed behind and when we came back he wasn't there anymore."
"And then what?"
"I told you. We went back to the tent to watch the guys from Moscow. We thought we would see Kurt there but we didn't. We watched the show and then we came back here."
"Could he have gone anywhere else? With anyone else?" Wolfgang asked.
"Lars told you everything that happened." Amanda said.
"Can I go look again? Back at the last place we saw him?" Lars asked.
"You don't think Kurt would be dumb enough to still be waiting there do you?" Wolfgang asked.
"No, but… Maybe he left a note or something." Lars said. He shrugged, "I don't know what else to do."
Wolfgang nodded. "Okay, go and come right back. What can it hurt?"
Lars jumped up and ran out of the tent.
Normally before the show the backstage area was a tightly controlled chaos. People were stretching, running through bits of the show, and generally milling around. This time people sat in tight clumps, saying very little. Wolfgang knew they were all thinking the same thing; that there was a difference between someone missing and someone being lost.
Lars returned to the tent running even faster than he had when he left. He was carrying something in his hand.
"I didn't see it before." He told Wolfgang breathlessly and he held up one of the festival jackets worn by all the performers. Wolfgang took it and turned it over in his hands. His heart sank; across the right breast it read "Circus Gehlhaar – Nightcrawler". Amanda came over to look and he handed it to her.
"What does this mean?" Amanda asked, not realizing that she had repeated the phrase several times.
Wolfgang took a deep breath. "It means that I have to cancel the show." He said.
