Twisting the Truth, a carnivàle fanfic

DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

"Samson! We got a problem."

The carny boss closed the door of Sabina's trailer behind him, and turned to see a visibly nervous Burley. As he descended the trailer steps, he said wearily, "You mean another problem, besides Jonesy bein' dead, Hawkins bein' wounded, an' a crazy preacher tellin' the world Hawkins is the Antichrist an' killed seventeen thousand of his followers?"

"Yeah. Besides all that." The mustachioed roustie was usually a troublemaker, but his manner suggested this was no petty personal grievance.

Sighing, Samson said, "Okay, spill it." But then raised voices impelled him to look in the direction of the Management trailer. "Oh God. What the hell's goin' on over there?" He headed that way, at a speed just short of a run.

Trotting after him, Burley said, "I gotta tell you somethin' -"

"Hold it till later!"

Samson had felt he had to look in on the distraught Sofie, whom Sabina's husband Bert had found in the back of a truck two hours before. He'd been unwilling to risk leaving Ruthie alone with Hawkins, despite Hawkins' belief that there was no danger of another attempt on his life by Lodz's ghost. Seeing no better alternative, he'd drafted Osgood to stay with them - though the poor kid had looked as though he didn't know whether to be more afraid of the murderous ghost, or of Hawkins himself.

Now Osgood was guarding the trailer steps, trying to fend off decidedly non-ghostly intruders: a dozen or so men whose notepads, microphones, and cameras proclaimed them to be reporters and photographers.

Shit, Samson thought, I shoulda known they'd find us, even before the cops.

The carnival was still stalled in the middle of nowhere. Its abrupt stop had caused some of the vehicles to bump into others - no injuries, but there was damage that had to be repaired before they could continue on their way. They'd moved the vehicles enough that they didn't block the lightly traveled road, and they were making progress with the repairs.

If the cops know we're here,he reflected, a half-dozen police forces are probably arguin' over who's got jurisdiction. But not their local papers an' radio stations - they all want us.

At least these guys don't have no legal right to barge into the trailer. I'm in no hurry to see Hawkins use his powers to make half the inside of it invisible.

Osgood spotted Samson and called out to him. Then he told the reporters, "Clear a path, folks! This here's Samson, the carnival manager."

Samson got through to the steps, with Burley still at his heels. Osgood bent to tell his boss, "Hawkins took a little nap, an' he's feelin' better. Says he wants to talk to the press! We're just supposed to stall while he's changin' his clothes. Ruthie got him some clean ones, God knows where."

Samson wasn't sure whether that was good news or bad. When he'd last seen Hawkins, the youth had been too weak to sit up without Ruthie's arm around him for support. His wound could begin bleeding again at any time - and the blood that might show through his clothes was blue.

Besides, I ain't thought out what I'd tell reporters, but I know I'm a better liar than he is.

The reporters were impatient, pressing in on the three carnies. "Where's that healer?" "C'mon, what's the hold-up?"

But their wait was seemingly at an end. The trailer door opened, and Ben Hawkins emerged. "I'm the one you want," he said mildly. "Just a sec till I ask Samson somethin', okay?"

Samson was stunned by the change in Hawkins. He still looked haggard, but he was steady on his feet, showing no sign of weakness. He was freshly shaved - and judging by the smell of him (or rather, the lack of smell of him), freshly bathed as well. The borrowed shirt and pants, wherever they'd come from, were a good fit. They were well-worn, but the quality was better than the typical roustie's wardrobe.

While Osgood and Burley held the reporters at bay - and the photographers jostled for position, shutters clicking - Hawkins sat on the steps to talk to Samson. He whispered urgently, "How's Sofie?"

"Upset about Jonesy, natch, an' worried about you. But otherwise, she's fine. The preacher an' his goons didn't hurt her. She wants to stay with us, even says she's willin' to be our Tarot reader."

Hawkins sighed in relief. "That's good. I'm glad somethin's goin' right. Now just follow my lead."

Rising, he bounded to the top of the steps. "Okay! I'll stand up here so all o' you can see me."

The photographers resumed snapping pictures. A half-dozen voices yelled questions at once, ranging from "Why are you with this carnival?" to "Did you put a curse on New Canaan?"

Hawkins' voice rose above the others, calmly calling for quiet. "It ain't gonna work this way. How 'bout you stop askin' questions, an' just let me tell my story?"

Murmurs of assent came from all sides. The reporters fell silent, pencils and mikes at the ready.

Samson marveled at what he was seeing. Hawkins was displaying a poise and air of authority he'd never shown before. Yet at the same time, he looked disarmingly young and clean-cut. Brother Justin may be tryin' to paint him as a disciple o' Satan, but he's makin' sure he don't look the part.

A wary reporter spoke up. "I want to get one thing clear. You are Benjamin St. John, right?"

Hawkins replied in an "aw-shucks" voice, "I'm the healer you're lookin' for. Most folks just call me Ben."

He didn't say whether his name is or ain't St. John, Samson realized. He's gotta know he can't use his real name - Ben Hawkins is supposed to be dead, an' hell, he was wanted for murder! But he ain't willin' to fib by claimin' another name as his own?

Now he recalled Hawkins' telling him on an earlier occasion, "I don't lie." Ye gods. Is he gonna try to do this without tellin' any actual lies?

Carnies were noticing what was going on and drifting in to listen; some hurried off, apparently to alert others. No problem, Samson told himself. Hawkins don't have no enemies here now. Except...Lila? I hope to God she don't show up.

As if he'd heard his thoughts, Burley whispered, "Uh, Samson? You want I should keep Lila away?"

"Yeah!" He added an afterthought: "Don't hurt her."

"I was thinkin' o' flirtin', not hurtin'. But remember, I gotta talk to you later. You and Hawkins." With that, their unlikely ally melted into the crowd.

"The first thing I wanna say," Hawkins was telling his now-large audience, "is that I'm as shocked as everyone else by what seems to have happened in New Canaan. If what we're hearin' is true, it's awful! It happened after we left, an' I can't explain it, no more than you can. But one thing I can tell you is that Brother Justin's lyin' about me. He didn't 'denounce my powers as comin' from the Devil' - not in any clear way. An' I didn't answer him by vowin' revenge.

"I'll start by tellin' you how I got involved with all this. You can see how young I am. I do have healin' powers - I've had 'em since I was a kid, never knew where they came from. I was afraid to use them. I thought folks would want more than I could give, an' be disappointed. An'..." He hung his head, briefly looking embarrassed. "An' besides that, I was scared o' bein' mobbed, treated like a freak. So I didn't let on what I could do. I got a job with this carnival as a roustie."

Samson nodded to himself. Good, good. No one would make a deal with the Devil for magic powers, an' then just hide 'em! He made a point of letting the reporters see him nodding.

"Then somethin' bad happened," Hawkins continued, "back in Nebraska. Our Ferris Wheel partly collapsed. There were some deaths an' injuries. I saved a little boy - that was all I could do. Samson saw it."

Samson kept nodding in case anyone looked his way. But he was thinking, "Saved." Careful choice o' words there. He ain't gonna tell them he can restore the dead to life.

"We still don't know what caused the collapse," Hawkins went on. "Mighta been shoddy maintenance, or tamperin' by someone what had it in for us. It wasn't the fault o' the carnival worker operatin' the Wheel! But some locals blamed him. They kidnapped him an' his wife, tarred an' feathered him, an' left him for dead. I found them, an' used my powers to save his life."

By now some of the newspaper reporters had forgotten to take notes and were just listening, open-mouthed. But one of the more diligent ones interrupted to ask, "You got proof o' that? Can we talk to this guy?"

Hawkins shook his head. " 'Fraid you can't. He got left behind in New Canaan, an' we think he's dead. His wife saw him tarred an' feathered, an' knows for a fact that I healed him. She's gotta be upset now - I won't have you botherin' her. But he had a bad leg, crippled for years, that I healed at the same time. All the carnies can vouch for that."

As one, they did. Loudly.

"I'm just tellin' you this," he went on, "to explain why I started usin' my powers, an' how the other carnies found out. Right after that trouble in Nebraska, we headed for California." He glanced at Samson. "New Canaan was our very next stop. An' it was Samson suggested I offer to heal any folks what needed it."

Samson wasn't thrilled at being put on the spot, but he spoke up at once. "That's true. I've been a carnival manager for years - clean record, never no truck with the Devil. You can check that out.

"I learned about Ben's powers just like he said, an' I talked him into doin' the healin' in New Canaan. That's nothin' to be ashamed of. All he did was help people!"

Reporters began blurting out questions again. "You actually healed people there?" "How many?" "Did Brother Justin see you do it?"

"Calm down," Hawkins urged them. "I'll get to all o' that.

"The answer is yes, I healed four people - though I suppose they're all dead now. One was a little boy who'd been deaf since birth. Another was a woman with TB. There was no way to prove I'd healed the TB, o' course, but I knew it, an' she knew it.

"An' there were two old men. For one, I healed a crippled hand. But the other..." He looked around, making sure he had the full attention of all the reporters. "The other was the last person I healed. He was a minister, paralyzed by a stroke. Name o' Balthus." A chorus of gasps greeted the name. But in case anyone didn't know who Balthus was, Hawkins told them. "That older minister had actually raised Brother Justin, been like a father to him!

"This is the best defense I got. Reverend Balthus had been a minister way longer than Brother Justin, an' he didn't think my powers were evil. He wanted me to heal him.

"An' Brother Justin saw me do it - that was the one healin' he saw. Don't it strike you as strange that a man wouldn't be grateful for someone's healin' a person he claimed to love like a father?"

Reporters and carnies were in agreement that it did seem strange. But one of the reporters, looking through his notes, said, "You told us Brother Justin didn't denounce your powers 'in a clear way,' and you didn't vow revenge. What did the two of you say?"

Hawkins was shaking his head in apparent bemusement. "This gets weird. He came in the tent where I was healin' people. He said, 'There you are!' Then he did say somethin' like, 'I've come to judge thee an' thy abominations.' Denouncin' me, I suppose, but it was sorta vague. No mention o' the Devil.

"An' then it got really crazy. He was yellin' stuff that made no sense at all - like 'I am the Lord's Left Hand!' an' 'Behold, the Holy Evil is come!'

"I didn't want to argue with him in the healin' tent, so I left. But I saw him again outside. There, he called me a 'sad mess,' an' made a comment about how young I am. As if, when he saw me close up, he thought I wasn't worth takin' seriously."

Samson rolled his eyes.

"An' I ain't forgettin'," Hawkins continued, "you asked what I said. I never threatened him. In fact, the whole time I was there, I said exactly one word to him."

An excited murmur ran through the crowd, and dozens of voices called out, "What?"

"A girl's name. 'Sofie.' You see, Sofie is one of our Carnivale family, an' she'd left us to become a disciple o' Brother Justin. I thought she was bein' held against her will. So I started to ask about her - if he'd let her go. But as soon as I got the word 'Sofie' outta my mouth, he said, 'She's waitin' for you.'

"An' it turned out to be true. Sofie had decided she didn't belong there, an' she came back to us, safe an' sound."

Only Samson knew the circumstances in which those words had been spoken, and what Justin had really meant. None of Hawkins' rapt listeners heard him laugh out loud.

The carnies did know that there had been a battle, that Hawkins had been wounded, and that when they left New Canaan, Brother Justin had supposedly been dead. But they were loyal to their own. Since Hawkins clearly didn't want to share those details with the world, his friends could be trusted not to reveal them.

Ten minutes later the reporters were on their way, eager to get to their respective papers and stations. Samson watched them go, then gave a perfunctory knock and went back into the Management trailer.

Hawkins was lying down, resting, with his head in Ruthie's lap, while she lovingly combed his hair. Osgood, still standing guard, was making a point of not looking at them.

Well, at least they ain't makin' out on the floor.

Hawkins sat up, with a bashful grin on his face. Ruthie glared at Samson and said, "Hmpf! I was stuck in here the whole time, 'cause there wasn't no graceful way to go out!"

"Ain't my fault," he shot back. "You already knew more'n Hawkins told the masses, anyhow.

"Now when are you two gonna tell me what happened? When I left, Hawkins, you looked like death warmed over. I come back a few minutes later, an' you're waltzin' out there to give a speech!"

Serious now, Hawkins said quietly, "Sorry I didn't have time to explain. I fell asleep, just for a few minutes. Right, Osgood? An' when I woke up, I...felt diff'rent. I knew that if I took that bandage off, there wouldn't be no wound under it! An' I was right. Not even a scar."

Osgood cut in. "That's true, Samson. I was really spooked!" Sounding desperate, he asked, "Can I please go now?"

Samson grinned. "Yeah, go on. Looks like Hawkins don't need no more baby-sittin'. Get outta here!"

After the door had closed behind the "baby-sitter," a still unsmiling Hawkins continued. "I thought that had to be some kind o' sign. When them reporters showed up, I figured I was meant to go out an' talk to 'em.

"Funny," he added thoughtfully. "If the wound had disappeared back in New Canaan, I wouldn't o' known whether I should surface now, or keep Brother Justin thinkin' I might be dead. The timin' told me what to do!"

Ruthie said, "Tell him the rest of it."

But Samson, looking from her grim face to Hawkins' pale one, already knew. "The wound may be healed, but you ain't a hundred percent, are you?"

Hawkins shrugged. "No," he admitted. "In fact, I ain't sure whether it's healed, or just can't be seen. I am doin' better - you saw that. But I still got pain."

Samson said, "Shit."

But Hawkins was shaking his head. "Nothin' I can't live with. It may be no worse'n the pain Jonesy lived with for years. An' he never complained."

Samson thought, This poor kid's had to grow up fast.

Then he had another thought. An' he's also learned things fast. Like how to speak with forked tongue.

"You did a good job out there," he said carefully. "Seems like you've mastered the art o' tellin' only the truth, but not the whole truth."

"I ain't happy 'bout that."

"Lessee. You told the world you have healin' powers...but not that there's always a price to be paid. That you healed four people in New Canaan...but not that we was torturin' Brother Justin the whole time. That you never threatened Justin...but not that you stuck a dagger in him."

Ben said evenly, "I didn't tell them I saw him kill four people with a scythe, either. Or that he tried to kill me with it. Or that he'd had my father kidnapped, an' killed him, before I done anythin'.

"Those things are for us Avatars to sort out on our own."

Samson nodded. "I can buy that. But..." Hell, I still think about it, I may as well say it. "It bothers me that you said you didn't threaten Justin 'cause he denounced your powers...but you didn't say flat out that you had nothin' to do with killin' them seventeen thousand people. Said you're 'shocked,' that it's 'awful,' that you can't 'explain' it. But I never heard you say you're sure you didn't cause it."

The silence could have been cut with a knife.

At last Hawkins said in a tight voice, "All right, I'll admit it. I ain't sure."

"Because you put the freakin' idea in his head!" Ruthie burst out.

"That's true," Hawkins acknowledged. "I didn't do it on purpose, Samson. An' if you hadn't brought this up before, it never woulda occurred to me that my makin' some dumb threat out loud - not really meanin' it - coulda caused what happened. Includin' bringin' Justin back to life.

"But that don't mean you're wrong. Now that it has occurred to me, I can't get it outta my mind."

Damn an' double damn. Sighing, Samson said, "I'm sorry, kid. Water over the dam now, but I wish I'd kept my mouth shut."

Hawkins said testily, "Stop callin' me 'kid.' My name is Ben Hawkins."

Then he too sighed. "At least here, among us, my name is Ben Hawkins..."

They had about ten seconds to sit in gloomy silence before a knock came at the door. "Samson!" Burley called urgently. "I still gotta talk to you!"

Samson let him in at once, and he settled himself uncomfortably, looking as if he'd rather have this conversation somewhere else. Anywhere else.

"Uh, I know Hawkins should hear this. But..."

Hawkins said flatly, "Ruthie stays."

Burley still looked uncertain. So Samson cleared his throat and said, "Time to get somethin' straight, Burley. What Hawkins says, goes. He's in charge now, over me. Same as Management was, an' for the same reasons.

"Management was a frail old man - that's why he never let folks see him. Hawkins is young. But he's the same kind of unusual person Management was...with a holy mission. You stay with Carnivale, you're servin' that mission. Got it?"

It was Hawkins' turn to shift uncomfortably; but he didn't protest the description of his role. As for Burley, he nodded vigorously, seeming relieved to have the chain of command spelled out.

"Okay," said Samson. "Now what's this problem you're so all-fired upset about?"

Burley looked from one to another of them and said, "Sofie's been lyin' to us."

After a moment's shocked silence, Samson said tightly, "I know you resented her workin' as a roustie. If you're makin' somethin' up to try to discredit her -"

"No, I ain't! I swear it!" The man was sweating, twisting his cap in his hands.

Hawkins said, "Give him a chance, Samson. C'mon, Burley, tell us exactly what you mean."

"All right." Burley took a deep breath, then said steadily, "Bert found her in that truck. The one I'd been drivin'. She's been sayin' she ran an' caught it - the last one in the convoy - as we were pullin' outta New Canaan. Climbed in without my seein' or hearin' her, an' passed out from exhaustion before she could let me know she was there. Sounds believable, right?

"Only it didn't happen. It couldn't o' happened like she said - because that truck wasn't the last one in the convoy! It only got moved around, became the last one, after our accident on the highway!"

They all stared at him, stupefied. Enemy of Sofie's or not, Samson knew he wouldn't dare lie on a point like this. There had to be other carnies who, if they thought about it, would remember the original order of the trucks as well as he did.

Ruthie said, "B-but...if she didn't get here the way she says, how did she get here?"

"Maybe more important," Hawkins said quietly, "why did she lie?"

"First things first," said Samson. "If she didn't get here the way she said, there's only two possibilities. She hitchhiked, or she drove from New Canaan. Either way, she caught up with us after we were stopped on the road. Hard to believe she coulda sneaked inside the truck unseen...but somehow, she did."

A bewildered Ruthie said, "We would've been just as eager to welcome her if she told us she'd hitchhiked or stolen a car."

Hawkins shook his head. "She had some reason to think we wouldn't," he said slowly. After a moment's thought, he muttered, "Jesus. We know somethin' terrible happened in New Canaan after the carnival left. We don't know how long after. But...thousands died! An' if Sofie was there a while longer, she may not want us to know why only she survived."

Samson didn't want to entertain that thought. "If she hitchhiked, she probably woulda had a hard time gettin' rides. So she coulda left very soon after we did, an' still not caught up with us before we stopped." Can't see why she'd lie about it, though.

Burley said, "I don't think she hitchhiked. I done some lookin' around, an' I found a car behind some brush, just off the road. Coulda been abandoned before today, o' course - but I didn't see nothin' wrong with it. Hell, it didn't even have a coat o' dust."

That, of course, was the signal for all four of them to go out and look at the car.

By the time they got there, Hawkins was in noticeably bad shape, leaning heavily on Ruthie. But as they neared the half-hidden car, he straightened. "Oh, shit. Anyone else see somethin' about it that proves it ain't been here long?"

Three voices, one after another, said, "Uh, no."

"Then I suppose I should be glad I came - 'cept that I can't be glad about any o' this." Hawkins pointed to the license plate. "I wouldn't o' been able to say what this number was if someone asked me. Only saw it two or three times. But seein' it again, I'm sure. '4T 39 85.' This is the car Stroud was drivin' in New Canaan!"

Back in the Management trailer, Hawkins collapsed on Belyakov's old bed and lay staring at the ceiling. Ruthie sat huddled on the floor beside the bed, looking forlorn.

Samson had a stiff drink.

They'd thanked Burley for his information - and for now, sworn him to secrecy. They were at a loss as to what else to do.

"Not the best day o' my life," Hawkins said at last. "I dunno what's goin' on with Sofie, but she ain't the only one took liberties with the truth."

"Couldn't be helped," said Samson. He peered at the maybe-lovebirds, who looked as if they'd settled themselves and didn't plan on moving for hours. "Hey. None o' my business, but - before you get too comfortable there, were you supposed to return them clothes?"

"Huh? Oh, no. He said I could keep 'em." Hawkins gave a wry laugh. "Y'know who Ruthie got 'em from?"

"No, who?"

"Seems appropriate," Hawkins said wearily, "considerin' the things I've said today.

"Rollo the Rubber Boy."

The End