At a traveling fair, there was a boy named Patty. Unlike other boys his age, his eyes didn't linger on the stands, rides, or arrays of candied treats. Instead, they remained steadfastly ahead. He was dressed in a second-hand striped button-down shirt that was ill-fitting and hung off of him slightly, making him seem smaller and scruffier than he probably ought to look, and a scarf with faded yellow stars was stuffed in his pocket. There was a smudge of crystallized pink sugar on his face that had gone unnoticed by Patty after he had eaten the stick of cotton candy that a big man everybody called "the bear" but whose name was actually just Orson, had given him when he'd spotted him from the pretzel stand in passing.
His cheeks were a ruddy red from days spent out in the heat and plastered with freckles. He was currently panting as he fought through the crowd, a deck of trick cards in his back pocket, clutching a small white rabbit named Clover, and trying desperately not to get bumped and jostled by adults who seemed oblivious to his position. The rabbit was still and frightened in his grasp, and so Patty made sure to reassure the poor animal as they continued their journey. "Don't worry, Clover, we'll be there soon," he soothed gently, holding her close to his chest so that she would not see her chaotic surroundings.
At the worst time, that feeling began to take hold of him once again. It sent a chill down his spine and gave him goosebumps: the sort of feverish sensation that made him feel as if something unexplainable was close enough to grasp, yet only just out of reach. He was barely aware of himself, slipping into a sort of daze. Something heavy and pressing mounted within him. His eyes slipped around, paranoid, trying to keep track of the shifting forms as he clutched Clover even tighter and pleaded with her to please make it go away. Please. I want to stay here. Then it all seemed to blur together.
He must have bumped into one of them because he registered a woman's startled face as the feeling suddenly slammed into him with painful clarity. He watched Clover's little white tail disappear from view as she bolted before his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
There's a creaking sound. At first, nobody notices it. Then it's screaming and screeching and ripping. Something is blocking out the sun, and Julie looks up to see what it is. There is a horrible slicing noise. Blood runs down her fingers as they splay out, reaching, gasping, pleading. A horse whinnies.
Patty surged back to reality, seizing for a moment in the startled woman's arms.
"Oh my goodness!" She exclaimed. "Dear, are you alright? What happened?" she asked, her eyes wide and full of concern. Patty stared at her as if he'd seen a ghost, terrified. He felt a little sick.
"Clu- Clover," is all he managed, shaking like a leaf with wide, shellshocked eyes."Where did she go?" he questioned desperately, breaking from her grip to crawl on the ground, turning his head this way and that as he began to shout,"Clover! Clover, where'd you go?" The trick cards were all over the ground, covered in dirt.
"Child, please," the woman urged from above him, squatting at his side and resting a calming hand on his shoulder. "Your bunny's gone. I'm very sorry. She ran off when we bumped into each other. We can look for her later, but for now, I just need you to calm down, sit still a second and try to do that, won't you?" Patty blinked, swallowing harshly around the knot in his throat and slowly sitting back. "That's right, good," she praised happily, in the meantime placing a hand on his forehead and narrowing her eyes. "What's your name, sunshine?"
"Patrick Jane," Patty said dutifully.
"Hi Patrick, I'm Julie. Who'd you come with? Your parents? I came with my husband, and we've been having such a good time. Do you know where they are?" Patty just stared, unresponsive, and so she took matters into her own hands. She let him stand, guiding him towards the tent where they sent lost kids to be found. Patty wasn't lost, but she didn't know that. They sat in the shade.
"It must be the heat. Have you been drinking enough water?" she asked gently, feeling his clammy forehead with the back of her hand again. "You're alright," she assured him. "Here." She pressed a bottle into his hands insistently. He stared at the offering, mouth moving uselessly as words tried to form. Her concern deepened. "You don't need to speak," she acquiesced. "Just drink a lot."
She went to speak with Moris, who manned the tent on Tuesdays. He must have recognized him because an announcement for an Alex Jane to report to the front tent was made shortly thereafter.
The woman came back to sit with him. She frowned, looking concerned. "Aren't you thirsty?" She asked. It's the same look on her face as he'd seen before. The one that was rapidly replaced by horror, only a moment later. The bottle slipped from his grasp as he buried his face in her shirt, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
"Oh," said Julie.
When he wasn't putting on a performance, Alex was a shrewd man. He seemed to delight in his work, some might even agree it was the only thing he delighted in. This unsettled some folks, because the basis of his practice depended on the suffering and desperation of gullible people. As he approached the front tent, what was at first annoyance at the distraction fell away, and he began to gawp at the scene before him, mouth hanging open like a fish for a moment before snapping shut.
"What are you doing?" Alex squeaked, before clearing his throat in embarrassment. "Let go of that poor lady!"
Julie looked up, staring at the boy's father. He wore a cheap-looking getup, a red and blue pinstriped dress shirt tucked into untailored slacks. Atop his head was a tall, well-adorned hat. She had seen his show not an hour prior. This shocked her for a moment, more than the boy attaching himself to her had.
"You're Patrick's father?"
"Yeah, and whatsit to you?" Alex snapped back immediately, his eyes narrowing in immediate dislike. She seemed to glare right back. "C'mere Patty, let's go," he huffed.
Patty, oblivious to their exchange, continued to cling to Julie like her life depended on it, looking up at her with wide eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Somethin's gunna fall on you!" He gasped. The woman blanched. He heard the slicing noise again, burying his head deeper into her shirt, shaking. "You can't let it happen. You can't. It hurts, it hurts so much..."
"My god," Alex groaned, tearing him away from the woman with an immensely put-upon sigh. "Hear that? My kid says something's gonna fall on you." He rolled his eyes. "Better watch yourself," he warned sarcastically, turning away with an unwilling Patty in tow.
The woman let out a shaky breath. "Lord, help me," she sighed, shaking her head.
"Whatever happened to the cards, the rabbit, eh?" Alex grumbled to Patty. "How'd you even screw that up?" he asked, baffled.
"Clover's gone. She ran away. And I spilled your trick cards."
"Goddamn," Alex snorted. "You don't do things halfway, do you?"
"Julie needs our help, Da," Patty persisted with a determined expression.
"No she doesn't," Alex mocked with an exaggerated eye roll. Patty looked down, brow furrowed.
"Then, why'd I-"
"You're hallucinating. She's fine. She's living it up, having a great time." He waved a dismissive hand. Patty didn't look up, face burning with shame. "On the other hand, your da's special cards are ruined, we're down a rabbit, and it's negative ten minutes till the next show! It's us you should really be worrying about," he ranted dramatically.
"You, you mean," Patty muttered.
"Alright, me then. Me's in a lot of trouble 'cus of you, Patty. Now, what're you gonna do to make it up to me?"
"Everything you say," Patty repeated in a high, mocking tone, blinking innocently as Alex glared back at him.
"Brat," he groused, turning away from him. Patty stuck out his tongue the moment his back was turned, taking off like a shot in the opposite direction. "Hey! You little-" The old man could never keep up with him. Patty waited behind a stand for a few minutes before peering around to check if he was clear. Watching intently, he concluded that Alex had given up almost immediately.
"Pulled a fast one on im, didja?"
Patty squeaked.
"I won't tell him you're here- If you run the stand while I go take a lil' smoke break," Muttonchops grinned cruelly, already getting ready to abandon his game even as a flabbergasted customer still played.
Patty groaned. "Fine." He jutted out his lip unhappily. "Only for a minute."
And so, it was with trepidation that the line waiting for their turns to shoot at wooden ducks as they bobbed up and down, watched as a seven-year-old took the helm. Muttonchops swaggered off, flicking his lighter open as he sang a jaunty tune.
"Five little ducks
Went out one day
Over the hill and far away-"
"Here you go," Patty said, offering up a pink teddy bear to the teen girl and her group of staring friends.
"But I didn't-"
"Congratulations."
It went on like that for a while, much longer than a normal smoke break. He'd almost cleared that skeezy muttonchops out by the time he'd returned.
"Hey, what sorta business you running?" he exclaimed. "Did you give one out every time?"
"I ran your stupid game," Patty pouted. Muttonchops groaned.
"Gettouta here," he scowled, shooing him off. Happily.
Patty wandered around calling out to Clover, looking in all her favorite spots, even setting out her cage and placing an inviting carrot inside in hopes of enticing her back. But there was no sign of her. Sullenly, Patty wondered if she'd even liked staying with them. Maybe she liked it better now that she was free. Patty scowled, a strange bitterness overtaking him. She loved it. The fluffy little deserter. He sat on the stairs to their trailer, staring at the open cage until his da finally came for him, scuffing him on the back of the head.
"You caused me a lot of trouble today," he snapped. "Now you're gonna be a nice little boy and help your poor, doting father. Get the briefcase, we gotta hook." There was a lot more bite to his incessant taunts than usual. Patty got the briefcase without a word, falling to Da's side dejectedly as they walked back through the fair. A lot of the children had left, and all the lights were on, glistening and flashing bright colored messages of merriment. Patty hung his head.
He mostly stared off into space at the "meeting", pulling out the briefcase at Da's cue, "Now this treatment was hard to come by- its rarity almost surpasses its potency, so you know you're getting something special." Patty unclasped the lid, revealing the two bottles tucked within: a vial full of dark green liquid and a small bottle of white pills. He raised a dubious eyebrow as the man leaned forward in his seat impatiently. Alex pulled the case away from him with a chiding tsk. "Eagar- aren't we, Mr. Hale? Having trouble keeping it up?" he chuckled, a pleased rumble in his voice that only Patty seemed to catch. Mr. Hale cleared his throat, recovering.
"I'm only interested, is all. No need to taunt me, sir," he said sorely, his eyes downcast.
"You came here with your wife, didn't you?"
"I did. But she left with Nina to ride the Ferris wheel."
"And how long ago was that?"
"A- A few hours ago."
"You discussed a meeting place, didn't you?" The man flinched.
"The kettle corn booth, by the-"
"Goldfish toss," Alex finished, eyes falling onto the plastic bag in the man's lap that he was clutching a little too tightly, the little fish within gently pacing the confines of its watery prison. "That for Nina?"
"I got… bored waiting."
"I see. It's worse than I originally thought. It's already affecting your relationship to this degree."
"Please, Mr. Jane, I don't see why we have to discuss this-"
"A minute ago, you wouldn't look at me. You kept looking at the exit, fidgeting in your seat," Alex leaned forward, "your voice was hesitant, slow. You were doubting yourself, your resolve was slipping away from you." The man looked up now, meeting his eyes. "A man stands by his decisions; everyone knows that. Your wife knows that. Do you?"
"How much, Mr. Jane?" Mr. Hale croaked. Alex grinned. Patty rolled his eyes.
"There he is."
As Mr. Hale left with the briefcase in hand, Alex, counting the bills, called out to him, "Remember, two white before bed and a spoonful of green first thing in the morning!" As soon as he was out of earshot, Alex shook Patty encouragingly. "We did it, bud! Let your ol' man treatya to something nice, eh? How abouta funnel cake?"
Patty, recovering from the unsteadiness of being shaken like a doll, brightened immediately. "Really?" he grinned, practically bouncing with excitement.
"We can get a whole flock of doves with this amounta green. Who needs that turncoat Clover anymore?" He laughed blithely. "C'mon. We're living large." His Da set off with a spin on his heel, putting on his long velvety coat with a flourish and striding away with a bounce in his step.
Patty, who wasn't sure he was ready to clean up after a whole flock of doves but was still optimistic about the funnel cake, found a tentative smile, trotting after him.
As a dull-eyed young woman named Nadia presented Alex with a funnel cake wrapped in parchment, a splitting sound reverberated through the fairgrounds, like the ripping of metal. The line behind them began turning their heads and murmuring to each other. Nadia's eyes skated off of them, eyebrows raising. Her assistant, who had been brazenly resting her boots on the edge of the stand, perked up, standing to peer nosily over the side.
"Did you hear that?"
For some reason, Patty felt his stomach drop, turning anxiously in the same direction. He couldn't see anything over the shifting of bodies, the whispers, the gasps, and the gathering crowd as they rushed and fell over themselves.
"What the hell's going on?" Alex groaned, snatching the pastry impatiently. "Here, Patty." He tossed it to his son without so much as a warning. Patty struggled not to drop it as Alex took his hand and broke from the stand, shoving through the bodies to find the source of the uproar.
"Da, wait!" Patty gasped, eyes wide as they began pushing through the masses, Patty too small to avoid getting shoved and bumped around and desperately holding onto da's hand. Alex made it to the front, pushing a gawking couple out of the way to stare at the scene. He stopped in his tracks. Patty couldn't see a thing over people's backs, but he heard faint moaning, crying, and the distressed whinny of a horse. He pressed past Da's side to get a look, feeling nausea crawl up his throat, a mounting need to see what the commotion was about surpassing all others.
The cake fell from his hand as his fingers went lax, his body physically recoiling.
Two men pulled shrapnel off of the limp body of a woman, thin sheets of twisted metal covered in fluorescent gore. Her hand stuck out from underneath, fingers curling minutely like the twitch of a roach's antenna after you were convinced it would move no more.
A man with a vividly painted face tried to calm a bucking show pony, who looked about to bolt, eyes full of terror.
"It was the Typhoon- "
"The arm, the arm just-"
"Split apart! It was horrible, and the-"
"The sound, that awful creak before-"
"Julie?" A man moaned, his crying redoubling. "Please, you have to- you have to help her," he continued from beside the wreckage, vivid colored blood all over his hands and the purple prize tiger abandoned in the dirt beside him. He wasn't unscathed, a long cut down his thigh weeping blood as he cried. "An ambulance, please, an ambulance," he pleaded with a broken voice, clutching his wife's bloody hand.
As most of the debris was lifted from Julie, her eyes rolled to the side. She struggled to speak as she noticed him, a croak forcing itself from within her throat replaced by a mouthful of blood bubbling out and spilling down her chin.
Patty hides in Da's jacket, shaking.
"Get the kid away from here, Alex!"
"Amazing!" His father gasped, immune to the suggestion. He garnered a few horrified looks. "Patty, Patty, listen to me. How did you do that?" He demanded, shaking his boy.
Patty just cried. "I– I don't know," he whimpered.
Jane's eyes flitted open, awakened abruptly from the throes of a dream. It was silent aside from the sounds of the night: the croaking and chirping of little critters and the rustling of the leaves in the wind. The night stretched on before him, the promise of insomnia unspoken.
The weight of his burden pressed heavily against his chest.
"I don't know," he promised the desolate night air, fulfilling an absurd need to justify himself to it.