How the Stars did Fall Page 18

  The two of them walked over to the breakfast table. All of the cutlery and the platters had been stowed already but Molly said she had asked the cook to save something for Olivia.

  “Wait here,” Molly said and left to go fetch it. She came back with a plate of cornbread and sausage and a mug of coffee. Olivia scarfed the food down, barely stopping to breathe, much less talk. But Molly had a worried look on her face and Olivia paused for a moment to take a swig of coffee and ask her what was wrong.

  “Ah, I don’t know. Just a feeling. I don’t like it here. Don’t like these people. How long do you believe we ought to remain here?”

  “So long as we need to raise enough money to buy horses and a wagon and supplies. Then we’ll set off.”

  “Then we ought get to work.”

  “Do you doubt me, Molly?”

  “No, not after the things I’ve seen. It’s just that when I was a girl I dreamt of having magic powers. I even read a few books and the like. Then I left that behind me as I grew. But now that I’ve seen real power up close I feel as though I wish I hadn’t. Because it fills me with dread. What else could lie hidden in the world? What other powers still undiscovered?”

  “That is what we will find out together.”

  The whole carnival heaved in labor as men groaned and yelled and carried things to and fro, their brown shirts stained by sweat, and after having breakfast Olivia joined them. She worked with the other girls to finish setting up the space inside her tent and she asked Jason to paint over H.L. Mecklenberg’s name. So he came by Olivia’s tent sometime after midday bearing a bucket of paint on which a pair of different-sized brushes lay crossed. He stood at the entrance to the tent admiring the signage when Olivia came out to greet him.

  “So what do you need done?” he asked.

  “I need that man’s name painted over.”

  “What do you want written instead?”

  “I don’t know. What do you think I should have written?”

  “Well, you could just put your name up there. What’s your full name?”

  “Olivia McKinnis.”

  “That name’s a bit boring. We could put up a title for your show instead.”

  “How about ‘The Astonishing Olivia,’ or ‘The Incredible Olivia’?”

  “I knew a bearded woman once called herself astonishing. Ended up killing herself. I reckon you ought to take the opportunity to tell people out here what it is they can expect in there.”

  “I just figured it out. I’ll call it ‘The Myriad Wonders of Atlantis.’”

  “I rather like it. Enticing. I could paint on some symbols, if you’d like. A seashell or a starfish.”

  “Excellent.”

  While Jason began to work on the tent’s exterior, Olivia crossed into it and told the other girls about the attraction’s name. They had their doubts but went along once Olivia had laid out her full vision. She imagined the tent fully decorated with the debris of wrecked naval vessels, seaweed and fish corpses and green mermaid’s tails.

  Olivia went outside to see how far along Jason’s work was.

  “Just about done,” he said. “How about you?”

  “I think I’m nearly done as well.”

  “When you going to change?”

  “Change?”

  “You’re not going to perform wearing that, are you? I never heard of anyone from Atlantis but I’m sure they didn’t wear anything like you’re wearing.”

  “You’re right, but where could I procure costumes now?”

  “You see that tent yonder?” He pointed. “Go and find Roberta. She has all kinds of clothes. Reckon you may find something suitable there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Roberta’s tent was the most elaborately decorated tent of them all. The entire exterior of the tarp had been intricately designed and embroidered with flowers and wavy lines in red and yellow and purple until it resembled a giant gaudy dress propped up by some invisible hanger. Inside the tent Olivia found a thin and petite woman bent over a sewing machine.

  “Roberta?”

  “Yes?” Roberta looked at her visitor, short and with raggedy hair framing her wrinkled face. “Ah, you’re the new girl. I hear you’ve got a quite a talent for illusions.”

  “I have a talent, yes. My father taught me how to do it, I mean.”

  “Well, hopefully you’ll do better than old Mecklenberg. Man couldn’t draw a crowd to save his life. But I did enjoy his company at times. He was an interesting man.”

  “Ma’am, I was told you could let me borrow a few costumes for my show?”

  “Were you? What kind of costumes are you looking for? We don’t have anything too elaborate.”

  “The theme of the show is Atlantis.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “I don’t expect you’ll have anything to match that theme very closely, nor would I know if it did when I saw it. Something old-fashioned would be sufficient. Something that looks ancient Roman or Greek.”

  “I’ve got a couple of togas. And a wreath. A wreath of mistletoe, I believe.”

  “That sounds acceptable.”

  “Then come in, girl. Let the flap fall shut. The bright sun gives me headaches.”

  With a measuring tape in hand, Roberta nudged Olivia to stand in front of a mirror. Olivia was not tall but next to this woman she looked nearly a giant. Roberta pressed one end of the tape against the crown of Olivia’s head and let the rest of it uncoil until the other end touched the floor.

  “Hold this,” Roberta said and Olivia held the tape. Then Roberta kneeled and tensed the tape, making a note of Olivia’s height.

  “Stretch out your arms.”

  Olivia did, and with the tape Roberta measured Olivia from the tips of one hand to the other.

  “Is this really necessary?” Olivia asked.

  “Probably not, but habits are habits.” Roberta opened the doors to a big dresser and rummaged in it looking for the items she desired. She pulled out one white toga and folded it in her arms. Then she pulled another and did the same and then another.

  “How many do you need?” she asked.

  “Three will do.”

  Roberta nodded and with her one empty arm she delved into the dresser.

  “Alright. Take off your clothes. Let’s see if it fits.”

  “My clothes?”

  “Indeed.”

  Olivia undressed, her cheeks reddening once she had removed the last piece of clothing. Roberta unfurled one of the togas and looked it over.

  “This one should do,” she said and placed it over Olivia’s head, letting the fabric flow over Olivia’s body. Then she looked over her work and found that it was lacking in a few places. Her adjustments were quick, her fingers pulling and pinching the fabric in strategic locations and inserting a pin near Olivia’s left breast to hold the whole thing together.

  “There, now. Is that how the people of Atlantis looked?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ah, almost forgot the last piece.”

  Roberta opened a drawer and plucked from it the wreath she had mentioned. She placed it on Olivia’s head.

  “You look like a Druid.”

  “What’s a Druid?”

  “Don’t know. My old mam used to say that to me whenever I put on a fancy dress. She had a little Gaelic in her.”

  “Then so do you.”

  “You speak true.”

  Olivia took the rest of the togas and thanked Roberta for them profusely. Then she let herself out of the tent and walked swiftly over to her own tent, where Luke stood admiring her efforts.

  “An interesting setup you have here,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “And costumes, too. Let’s hope our customers like it, aye?”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  Luke took out a pocket watch from his jacket and glanced at it.

  “One hour to showtime,” he said.

  First Oliv
ia changed into the toga and then Molly, who would serve as guide and herald, telling the story Olivia wanted told. Then they together they made their final preparations and taking their places inside the tent they waited.

  But no one came. So Olivia got up and put her head out of the tent to have a look. The whole place was empty. No one walked on the central path and the only living people she could see were the three at the entrance who worked the ticket booth. She went back inside and waited some more and then became impatient and looked out again. Now she could see a few stragglers here and there walking amidst the tents, taking in the sights. A couple holding hands, and behind them a whole caravan of children being led by a pair of women like a flock of crazed geese, yapping loudly as they walked. Further beyond, Olivia saw that a line had formed at the booth, so she took her place again at her table, where a glass full of water waited to be levitated.

  Eventually a pair of drunkards sojourned into the tent. Molly led them forward like a desecrated Virgil, her wiry frame eaten up by the folds of her toga.

  The men reeked of whiskey and their sullied trousers and sweat-stained shirts indicated that they had come to the carnival directly from their place of employment. Their faces were blank and one of them grabbed at his own crotch and spat at the ground.

  It took only a few moments for them to reach the second partition.

  “Look directly forward and you will see something you’ve never seen before,” Molly said.

  Then she clapped her hands three times. A signal for Jason, who hid on the far side of the tent. The Drummond light sparked on and the beam brought forth the apparition, leaving it hanging against the white screen. Yet despite the awesome scene, the men, emboldened by drink and reassured by the carnivalesque context, laughed among themselves. One of them imitated the ghost in posture, mouthing off a litany of gibberish and curses. A mockery of that mysterium tremendum.

  “I seen this before,” one of the men said. “It’s just a picture.”

  “I’ve never seen it. Not bad. But it ain’t worth fifty goddamn cents.”

  Molly escorted the men into the final partition, where Olivia waited with the glass in front of her. Even without any clothes underneath, the toga left her hot and her sweat had caused the fabric to cling to her body somewhat, but she tried to not think about it. She took a deep breath and noticed the men nudging each other and whispering. Olivia resolved to get on with it. She closed her eyes and spoke the magic words she had made up and the glass did arise, but then she heard the sound of a revolver cocking and when she opened her eyes she found the muzzle of the revolver pointed at her. The glass tumbled from the air onto the table, spilling water, and bounced off and fell onto the ground, where the grass softened its fall, keeping it intact.

  Jason entered the tent, then, and tried to intervene but the man merely pointed the revolver in his direction and made him get on his knees and be quiet.

  “What do you want?” Olivia asked.

  “Why, I want my money’s worth, little lady. This two-bit freak show ain’t gonna cut it. Right, boys?”

  “Not at all. It’s not right to bilk a couple of working men of their hard-earned coin.”

  “There’s no need for violence, sir. The carnival will refund you your money.”

  “What about the time we wasted out here? Gotta count for something.”

  “I can give you more money, if that’s what you want,” Jason said.

  “Now we’re talking in English. Let’s see your money.”

  Jason pulled the coins the men had given him from a pouch and placed them upon the table. Then he brought out banknotes of his own and laid them in a stack next to the coins. He had laid five notes of one dollar each when he stopped, but the men glared at him and told him to go on. Jason took a good look at the revolver and brought out more banknotes until the stack had thickened enough for the men’s liking.

  “It looks like we found ourselves a rich man,” one of the thieves said. “What are you doing working in a carnival, rich man? Rich man like yourself ought to carry a gun like I do. Never know when it might come in handy.”

  While Jason emptied his pockets, Olivia felt helpless. All she could think of was the sea and endless water. She pined for it. If she had been within sight of a pool of water of some kind she could’ve overpowered these thieves easily. But she wasn’t. Inland her power counted for little. She truly became nothing more than a carnival sideshow. Yet while she pondered this sad fact she noticed a subtle movement in the table in front of her.

  Then she heard a creaking sound coming from it. The thieves, too busy admiring the cash, heard nothing. Nor did they see what happened next. The table shifted and its legs changed shape, curving at the middle until they became like the muscular legs of a horse or a bull. Some of the wood broke off and formed arms and the sound of the cracking wood startled the thieves. They gazed at the table as an eye the size of a fist opened right in the middle of its body, and underneath the eye a mouth broke open with teeth and a tongue.

  When table moved forward and extended its arms at the thieves, the one with the revolver fired. The bullets did little to stop the newly awakened thing, passing straight through the wood, and soon it was upon them, driving its splintered arm into their faces and stomachs. Together all three thieves were able to topple the table and pin it to the ground with their weight but not without suffering a few broken teeth and ribs.

  They had not accounted for the magic lantern. It, too, had birthed arms and legs and it whinnied like a horse before trampling the thieves, smashing hands and arms and skulls until the thieves looked no longer like men but misshapen clay sculptures splattered in red. Unfinished and discarded.

  Olivia gaped as the table picked itself up from beneath the bodies and off the ground, and with the magic lantern it strode right out of the tent. Olivia set out to follow the furniture, but as she passed Jason grabbed on to her hand.

  “Don’t go,” he said. Jerking her hand away from Jason, she went on. She caught sight of the living furniture fleeing the carnival towards the east.

  Olivia followed behind until they entered into a pristine forest, past streams of water and fluttering owls and silent deer. The clacking of their wooden feet echoed in that wilderness, their absurd existence astonishing the deaf trees. Finally Olivia saw them cut into a cave hidden in the foliage, a slit covered in green and brown, camouflaged, like the lair of some witch in the woods, she thought, desiring no visitor or intruder. Olivia crouched over the damp soil. Her toga had browned at the bottom and she still wore the mistletoe wreath, and in that grove, as she walked to the mouth of the cave, she looked like the relic of a long-lost age. Then she entered.

  The narrow path was strewn with objects. Books and pens and pots and pans and shovels and bed frames and tubs and hats and belts and belt buckles and a great wool rug like those made by Indians, wide as a pond of red and white and yellow. Olivia stepped onto the rug and passed a threshold where the cave opened up further. The light at the entrance still illumined the space but it was faint. She could see that more objects had been piled together, there but this time leaves and branches had been placed atop them in some kind of funeral rite. Like a graveyard for unliving things. Then she noticed an aperture in the stone wall leading to another part of the cave and there she found the table and the magic lantern and ahead of them, on top of a mound, a man extending his arms and touching the furniture. He had a candle with him but it was still too dim for Olivia to make out who it was. So she approached him and once she had come close enough she saw that he was petting the furniture like they were dogs and they were drinking water from a trough. Then she looked at the man’s face and saw that it was Lynch.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After languishing in the fort’s jail for over a week, Faraday and Moon and Tenhorse were taken out into the courtyard, where a wooden platform had been erected. They were each placed underneath a rope that hung from the boards above and then one of the officers tugged at the rope, extending i
t, until he had a noose in his hands that he passed over each of their heads so that it hung from their necks like some barbaric necklace. The mark of some fallen tribe. And the three of them stood facing the crowd assembled before them. Faraday looked over at Moon and saw that she cried. And he looked at Tenhorse and the Indian looked unfazed, almost happy.

  Then from among the crowd emerged an elegantly dressed man. He wore a black top hat upon his head and his dark suit held a single red handkerchief, tucked inside one of his front pockets. This man read out loud from a scroll the charges laid before Faraday and the others and then he spoke his own condemnation, and Faraday understood the man was a judge of this jurisdiction or someplace nearby. But while the man spoke, something peculiar began to happen. Birds of every kind appeared in the sky. Babblers and crows and pigeons and wood-warblers, flying down from on high and perching atop the wooden platform. Around ten at first and then more. Twenty, thirty, the numbers so great the whole assemblage turned their attention to these flocks and even the judge stopped speaking for a moment before continuing. Then larger birds fell upon the platform, swans and albatrosses and turkeys, and these stood next to the prisoners and with their beaks they tried to bite off the shackles but they could not dent the metal.

  Seeing this, the colonel ordered his men to shoo the birds away but they would not be driven off. The birds counterattacked, snapping at fingers and faces. So the soldiers brandished their weapons and fired at the larger birds. Even the colonel took a revolver from one of the soldiers and set out to fire upon them himself. But more birds fell from the sky like lightning. Hawks and eagles now and a black-and-white osprey like an angel of death. They converged on the colonel, their claws tearing out eye and ear and lips until the flailing colonel could no longer stand, his revolver emptied into the air. And the birds fell upon each armed soldier, ripping open deep gashes in their flesh.

  After a while, all of those assembled feared for their lives and some of them fled the fort while some remained in awe of the spectacle. A few more brave men dared to battle the birds and some of their shots hit true, downing a swan here and an eagle there. Seeing these deaths, the other birds squawked in unison as if they could all feel the same pain and sadness. But these men did not remain living for long.