swallowed and kept it down for a moment, then stumbled out of the hut, bent over and threw up in the grass. Down on all fours, panting and sweating, he tried to swab his mind of what he’d just seen, to think of absolutely nothing.
Across the path, two dwarfs eyed him with suspicion. One muttered something to the other behind the back of its hand.
‘Come back,’ Shalice called from inside the hut. ‘It’s almost finished.’
Legs rubbery, he somehow made it back inside and sat on the crate. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘No more. Please.’
‘Just a little,’ she whispered. ‘The worst is over.’
It took effort to focus again on the glass ball, but he did it. He watched his older self in the bathroom, before themirror, staring at his reflection. Older Jamie seemed to have washed the blood from his hands, and there were little specks of it over the mirror and sink. He held his hands together and said what looked like a prayer. His face still had that blank look he’d worn when stabbing the mother of his child to death. He retained that blank look as he walked through the apartment, passing the body on the floor without giving it a glance. He opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony. Impassively, without hesitation, he stepped over the rail and dropped from sight.
The pictures in the ball faded and its light went out. Shalice replaced the cloth cover. ‘I know that was hard for you to watch,’ she said sympathetically, ‘but you had to see it. That is what you were spared by coming here. That is what awaits you, out there.’
‘I can avoid —’
‘No. You cannot. You would forget about us. We would arrange it. The clowns would knock you out, the appropriate rituals would be performed, you would be taken back to your room in the dead of night, left there, and you would wake thinking you’d had a very strange dream, though the details would escape you. Your present and this future would at some point coalesce. And you would be finished.’
Jamie stood. ‘Okay … I need to go. I need to … think about this. Okay?’
‘Yes, Jamie.’ She reached for his hand and held it. Her fingers were cool and smooth. ‘It is better this way,’ she said, looking him in the eyes. ‘Much better.’
He swallowed, nodded, and staggered from the hut. Shalice watched him go, then gave the ball a quick rub with its cloth cover.
Gonko came in a moment later. She didn’t look up at him. ‘Did he buy it?’ Gonko murmured.
‘Of course,’ the fortune-teller replied. ‘Some of us are masters of our craft. Now get out of my hut.’
Chapter 8
Winston the Clown
JAMIE found his way back to the clowns’ tent and sat outside on a log. From Sideshow Alley came the final distant sounds of carnies packing up for the night. Overhead the sky spread out like a vast black lake, with no sign of the stars or moon.
He was trying, without luck, to put the day into perspective. The show as he’d seen it came back in blurred, disconnected snapshots. The fortune-teller’s story had shaken him badly, but he’d already seen so many things that should not be real, there was no reason not to believe what he’d seen. And it stung to think it could end that way; he’d never had grand ambitions, would have settled for the standard package: job, house, wife, 2.3 kids. Enough holiday time to see some of the world, the odd game of golf. It wasn’t too much to ask, and he’d been willing to work for it.
So, this was a second chance? Maybe, but she had not really answered any of his original questions. Who, what, why, where, how — those pesky little details.
He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw Gonko squinting down at him. ‘Get some rest,’ said Gonko. ‘Not a good idea to be out alone after dark. Not here.’
‘Why not?’ said Jamie despondently.
Gonko peered around into the gloom. ‘Stay and find out if you want to. Them dwarfs ain’t too fond of anyone who ain’t a dwarf. Or anyone who is. And they
Across the path, two dwarfs eyed him with suspicion. One muttered something to the other behind the back of its hand.
‘Come back,’ Shalice called from inside the hut. ‘It’s almost finished.’
Legs rubbery, he somehow made it back inside and sat on the crate. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘No more. Please.’
‘Just a little,’ she whispered. ‘The worst is over.’
It took effort to focus again on the glass ball, but he did it. He watched his older self in the bathroom, before themirror, staring at his reflection. Older Jamie seemed to have washed the blood from his hands, and there were little specks of it over the mirror and sink. He held his hands together and said what looked like a prayer. His face still had that blank look he’d worn when stabbing the mother of his child to death. He retained that blank look as he walked through the apartment, passing the body on the floor without giving it a glance. He opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony. Impassively, without hesitation, he stepped over the rail and dropped from sight.
The pictures in the ball faded and its light went out. Shalice replaced the cloth cover. ‘I know that was hard for you to watch,’ she said sympathetically, ‘but you had to see it. That is what you were spared by coming here. That is what awaits you, out there.’
‘I can avoid —’
‘No. You cannot. You would forget about us. We would arrange it. The clowns would knock you out, the appropriate rituals would be performed, you would be taken back to your room in the dead of night, left there, and you would wake thinking you’d had a very strange dream, though the details would escape you. Your present and this future would at some point coalesce. And you would be finished.’
Jamie stood. ‘Okay … I need to go. I need to … think about this. Okay?’
‘Yes, Jamie.’ She reached for his hand and held it. Her fingers were cool and smooth. ‘It is better this way,’ she said, looking him in the eyes. ‘Much better.’
He swallowed, nodded, and staggered from the hut. Shalice watched him go, then gave the ball a quick rub with its cloth cover.
Gonko came in a moment later. She didn’t look up at him. ‘Did he buy it?’ Gonko murmured.
‘Of course,’ the fortune-teller replied. ‘Some of us are masters of our craft. Now get out of my hut.’
Chapter 8
Winston the Clown
JAMIE found his way back to the clowns’ tent and sat outside on a log. From Sideshow Alley came the final distant sounds of carnies packing up for the night. Overhead the sky spread out like a vast black lake, with no sign of the stars or moon.
He was trying, without luck, to put the day into perspective. The show as he’d seen it came back in blurred, disconnected snapshots. The fortune-teller’s story had shaken him badly, but he’d already seen so many things that should not be real, there was no reason not to believe what he’d seen. And it stung to think it could end that way; he’d never had grand ambitions, would have settled for the standard package: job, house, wife, 2.3 kids. Enough holiday time to see some of the world, the odd game of golf. It wasn’t too much to ask, and he’d been willing to work for it.
So, this was a second chance? Maybe, but she had not really answered any of his original questions. Who, what, why, where, how — those pesky little details.
He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw Gonko squinting down at him. ‘Get some rest,’ said Gonko. ‘Not a good idea to be out alone after dark. Not here.’
‘Why not?’ said Jamie despondently.
Gonko peered around into the gloom. ‘Stay and find out if you want to. Them dwarfs ain’t too fond of anyone who ain’t a dwarf. Or anyone who is. And they
Similar Books
