Makaila 61 to 70

 

 

 

61

Every breath came painfully, intruding on her dreams. Visions of young children, death and the face of the well-dressed man danced in her nightmares. The door burst open again and the same man rushed in. If not for the safety, she would have unloaded the .44 into the empty air before fully awake.

She fell back on the bed and wondered, in order, where she was, what day it was and what time it was. “Pennsylvania,” she said to the ceiling searching for the other answers. “Don’t know – don’t have a clue.” Rolling to a sitting position, she dropped the clip, again, checking the gun’s load. “Find out what time it is, what day it is, eat, get the car fixed and find the carnival.”

Pee first.

Her head was dull and she wished for her normal eye-opener: bourbon. Leaning on the sink, she stared at the image in the mirror. “God, girl. You don’t look so good. The last thing you need is a drink.”

She called the desk. To her surprise, she hadn’t slept twenty years. She thought she’d check out and arrange road service from the desk. She had no idea who to call. She pushed the pain back, threw her one bag over her shoulder and left the room behind.

 

“It says major credit cards.” Josephine puzzled at the kid on the desk.

“That means in-state credit cards. You have to find a bank and get a cash advance. Don’t even show me a checkbook. You’ll have to leave your car until you pay.”

Jokes on you, you little bastard.

An auburn-haired woman pushed her way casually next to Josephine, leaned her elbows on the chest-high counter and presented a fist full of money. “I hope you take, like, cash, even if it’s printed outside your wonderful state. Room 212. I’ll pay for this lady, too.” Makaila winked at Josephine.

“Sorry to spoil your fun, kid, but I think it really sucks when a clown like you gets in someone’s face just because they happen to be born different than you.” She held her hand at her eye level. “I’m not all that tall but you’re shorter than me and you don’t see me making fun of you because you don’t measure up.”

Josephine tried to laugh, but hurt too much. “Thanks, eh. Get me to a bank and I’ll pay you back.”

“Cathy. Cathy Madison. $16.00? Won’t break this bank.” Makaila fanned the handful of bills. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Josephine McCarthy.” She took Makaila’s hand. “My friends call me Jo.”

“Well, we’re buds right off until we decide different. Something I learned not too long ago. In college, Jo.” She gathered the receipts and placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “For the great service, shorty.” She picked up Josephine’s bag.

Makaila left Josephine on the curb and went to the driver’s side, leaning on the door to talk to Judy. “Your sister’s Cathy, right?”

“Yeah, surprised you remembered.”

“For now, that’s me.”

“Good idea. What’s up with her?”

“I gotta teach you to read subtle body. This lady’s in big trouble.”

“More than you?”

“It’s all relative. Look at her face. She’s in lots of pain. My guess is she got sprayed with bullets.”

“You can tell that by her face?”

Makaila snickered. “The pain, yeah. The bullets, no. She’s wearing a bullet-proof vest.” She held a finger up to Josephine for her to wait. “She’s from out of town. Look at the cars here in the lot. No rental and no out-of-state tags. Her car’s not here. Should I go on?”

“What do you think we should do?”

“Don’t know. I think we should ask her.”

“Maka – Cathy, you’re not a psychopath.”

“Maybe I just like the rush.”

 

Makaila put Josephine and her bag on the backseat. “My sister, Judy. Her friends call her Judy. Give the glad hand to Jo, our new bud.”

“We’re on our way to get a serious meal. Care to join us before you go on your way?” Judy watched Josephine in the rearview mirror.

Eating was on her list, having been a while. She winced against the pain. “Sounds good. Thanks again. I’ll buy. Least I can do.”

“Deal,” Makaila agreed.

In the first restaurant they came to, once at the table, Jo suggested: “You shouldn’t wave that money around like that.”

“I don’t. I was making a point.”

“Oh.”

“So where you from?” Judy asked.

“New Jersey.”

Judy tightened up. Makaila, without hesitation, asked: “Is that like in New England?”

“A ways below New England. Dead east of here.”

Breaking a bread roll in thirds, Makaila gave each a piece. “I’m going to go back to my high school and demand my money back. I should know that, I guess.”

“What brings you out here?” Judy asked further.

“Traveling.”

Makaila smirked and leaned toward Josephine. “This ain’t no hoedown at the county fair and not time for dancing. Who shot you?”

Josephine looked from one to the other as if caught cheating on a test. “What makes you think I was shot?”

“Do you believe in psychics?” Makaila asked.

“No!”

“Neither do I.” Makaila paused to accept menus and order coffee. “You’re on the run. You got shot. You’re not a criminal and you didn’t do anything wrong. You drink too much.” She squinted. “Make that drank too much. You’re more concerned about your career – slash that – an aspect of your career – yeah, that’s right. You’re more concerned about an aspect of your career than having friends, or even your family.”

Judy was amazed watching Makaila work Josephine. She understood exactly what Makaila was doing and how, but she couldn’t have done it herself. Makaila could put things together and in order, simply reading subtle hints in Josephine’s face.

“Jo, our new bud. We’re the good guys. Tell us how we can help.”

Josephine sat with her mouth moving, no words coming out at first. She closed her eyes. “My car’s got a flat and I don’t have a jack.”

“Rental car. Should have called the company.” Makaila saw a variation around Josephine’s eyes when she said, my car, which told Makaila it was not her car at all. The rest was conjecture. “But, that’s really your problem in life and why you’ll do what you can to refuse our help. You’ve been disappointed so many times, you think you’re on your own all the time.”

Judy giggled. “Scary, isn’t she?”

Josephine stared at Makaila. “I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.”

“You just may be! But, really. We’re on vacation and can help you out.”

“We were raised that way,” Judy added.

Makaila wouldn’t allow Josephine to pay for the meal. “I don’t care about the details, but someone tried to kill you. The second you smoke the credit card, he’s going to know where you are.” She smiled. “Unless that’s what you want, but I’d wait until you can hold that gun in a way it would do some good.”

Makaila made too much sense.

 

“I’m a psych major. I know nothing of jacks,” Judy announced. “That’s what I have a dad for.”

“I’ve never changed a tire.” Josephine eyed the trunk. “The three of us are going to set women’s lib back a decade.”

Makaila dragged the pieces of the jack out of Judy’s trunk. “How hard can it be?” She read the instructions and looked at the rental car’s undercarriage. “You’d think a car’s a car, but not so.” She made it work. When she came to breaking the lug nuts, she found herself thankful for all those days throwing hay.

“Back in the race.” Makaila clapped her hands together. “Now we can go to the carnival, if there’s nothing else.”

“Carnival?” Josephine asked.

Makaila closed her eyes. The license tag, Ohio, on the rental car hit her for the first time. She ran the combinations and permutations backwards, trying to place Josephine in the drama.

“Carnival’s are a hobby of ours.” Judy jumped in. “I’m doing a study of social culture structures in the carnival environment. When I publish, you’ll get to say you met someone famous.”

That’s enough, Judy.

Judy went on: “Ever since I was a kid, I was fascinated with carnivals of all sorts.”

Makaila put a hand on Judy’s arm but knew it was too late. Josephine had too many pieces.

Friend or foe? Makaila couldn’t be sure. She watched Josephine’s mind working. Makaila was five feet away, Josephine slowed by her injuries.

Two steps, swing. The tire iron would crack her skull before she could reach her gun. Makaila took a deep breath.

“I’ve always liked carnivals, too.” Josephine narrowed her eyes at Makaila. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

Not if I see you first. Makaila waved as Josephine drove off.

 

“I think she knows, Judy. But she’s not sure what she knows.”

“You think? Why didn’t she take you?”

“She knew I’d kill her.” Makaila sat straight down to the gravel shoulder and looked up at Judy. “I want to go back to the motel where only you and me were the whole world. I want to go back to the farm where the whole world was people who smiled at me and cared about me.” The tears flowed. “I don’t want to be in a world where I even have to think about killing people!”

Judy dropped to her knees, holding Makaila. “You’re makeup’s going to run.”

 

62

Cathy’s right. Josephine made her way to the turnpike. If they suspect I’m not dead, the credit card’s a dead giveaway. She drove east two exits, filled the car on the credit card and withdrew cash from a bank machine.

Now the trail, if found, will look like I’m on my way to New Jersey.

She went back the way she came.

The girl, Cathy, bothered her. She had too much insight as if she had inside information. She looked familiar. Josephine placed her at about eighteen years old. She wanted to put the girl’s face next to those in her files to be sure, but she didn’t fit any of the profiles. Debbie Powers and Carol Abbot, she remembered, would be around that age, but she couldn’t imagine what they’d look like.

More straws.

Nothing else fit the profiles.

The so-called psychic abilities sent the first alarms off and raised suspicions. She’d seen many acts just like Cathy’s, but always on stage. Hers wasn’t all that good, anyway. Guessing averages. Once Josephine learned Judy and Cathy were carny-rats, the psychic act made sense.

“Interesting women, though.” She hoped to see them again and maybe get to know them better. And, pay them the money she owed.

 

63

“It’s lots easier being a farm girl.” Makaila worked on fixing her makeup in the moving car.

“Gets to be second nature. Do they know you’re coming?”

“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t tell them. Megan’s a witch. I’m sure she knows. I want to just walk in. If no one recognizes me, I know I’m cool.”

“A witch, huh?”

“Gypsy. I call her a witch because it gets under her skin. Not that there’s any difference. It’s shtick for the marks.”

Judy laughed. “How long did you hang out with these people?”

“Couple of hours. Seemed like a lifetime.”

“And, you think they’ll welcome you in?”

“With open arms – maybe even candles.”

I hope.

 

An elderly man stopped Makaila and Judy at the temporary fence. “Don’t open ‘til tomorrow. Come back then.”

“I’ve never seen you before. You a local temp?”

“Don’t matter who or what I am. Tomorrow.”

“We’re college kids looking for some work ourselves,” Judy insisted. “Just a couple of days.”

Allowed to pass, they wandered around, watching everyone putting up stands, tents, rides and stages.

“This is a big one.” Judy tried to see everything at once.

“It’s very cool.”

“No one seems to know you.”

“Good.” She didn’t see Mike, Jill or Megan. She found Megan’s tent and decided to wait.

“Are you sure no one’s going to mind us being in here?”

“Maybe I’ll do some readings until Madam Dandelion shows. What do you think? Madam Bimbo?”

“How about, she-who-is-like-God, Makaila?” Megan’s song-like voice filled the tent. Judy jumped.

“Redundant, Megan.”

“So it is. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Well, since I don’t have to bring you up to speed, I’ll just ask then. Can you do it?”

“We would be honored.”

“We?”

“We are family here. You know that. We decide these things together. Bossman cried with joy when he heard you were coming to stay with us.” Her dark eyes cut into Makaila. “It is really our joy to serve you.”

“Bossman? Mike?”

Megan smiled. “No.”

“Okay. Bossman. Megan, say hello to Judy. She’s like my sister. Judy, this is the witch I mentioned.”

“Gypsy.” Megan took Judy’s hand. “Yes, with your new look, which I like by the way, you do look like sisters.” She held Judy’s eyes and hands. “Hmm – you find yourself on a strange journey.”

“No kidding!”

“That’s not what I mean. A journey within yourself, your mind and your emotions. Everything in life is suddenly not as it was. You have found a rare gift, which few in a lifetime experience and you don’t know what the gift is.”

Makaila walked around the tent, stopping to put a hand on the window-artwork with the candle. With the matches from the small shelf, she lit the candle. “Spiritual love.”

“Yes, Makaila. Spiritual love.”

She didn’t turn from the candle. “What is that anyway?”

“There are no words. It just is. What you feel for Cat.”

“Told you it wasn’t sexual. What gives with the candles?”

Ignoring the question, Megan continued to Judy. “This is a life-transforming experience. Very powerful. It’s a testimony to your character that you have not run from it.”

Judy watched Megan carefully. “Where will it lead?”

“No one knows what the future will be. Your life will unfold before you as you take each step and make each choice.”

“Unlike some people we know, whose choices are made for them.” Makaila stared into the candle’s dancing flame.

“Hush.

“You can go back to your life, taking that which you have experienced thus far – full and rich – and your life will unfold as you have imagined it and predicted it. Or, you can stay, here, with her and with us. Many doors, which you cannot even imagine, will open to you. But – be warned – there is a dark side.”

“Which is?”

“Like a butterfly, you can never go back and be the caterpillar again.”

“That doesn’t sound like a dark side.”

“Oh, child, it is. You will never again be able to be like them. You have fit in all your life. You no longer will.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Stay then. You will come to understand.” Megan released Judy’s hands and eyes. “Candles call you home.”

“Here? No, wait. The farm? No, not the farm. Hmm. You’re kidding? No, you’re not. I don’t want to go.”

“You must and you will, but not today.”

“Cool. I was surprised no one recognized me. I made quite a stir the other night.”

“Everyone recognized you. It was all they could do to continue their work. You seemed to want to wander around unnoticed so that’s what they let you do.”

“Oh. Where’s Mike? I kinda slipped out without thanking him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be along. He’s readying a party.”

“Opening day?”

“Returning friend.”

“Who?”

“You.”

“You’re pretty cool, for a witch.”

“Gypsy.”

“She only says that to bug you,” Judy pointed out.

“I know.” She backed from the tent. “Come along when you’re ready. Just look for the glow of the fire.”

“Thanks!” Judy called.

Makaila dropped to her knees and put her hands in Judy’s lap, looking up at her. “Told you she had a cool shtick, huh?”

“You think that’s all an act?”

“It’s all magic. Mike said so. He’s pretty cool, too. You’ll like him. It’s not hard to guess, seeing as how I have a new look and it looks like you, that you’re in a life-transforming experience and it has something to do with me. Megan’s the one who told me I have this light thing. It doesn’t show in the mirror, so I have to take her word for it.

“She said I was like God or something.” She bounced. “So, what you going to do? Hang or split?” Makaila’s blue eyes sparkled from the candlelight. “I told you my story and you got me here. That was the deal.”

“Somehow I think that deal changed somewhere along the way. If you want me to stay and I’m invited, I would like to.” Her greenish-brown eyes were almost sad.

“Yes and you are!”

“I’m not sure you can speak for them.”

“I gotta clue who Bossman is. I can speak for them.”

“Assuming that’s true, you’re stuck with me for the time being.”

“Let’s go find the fire, then.”

Hand in hand, they left the tent.

 

64

Evening gave over to night and a harvest moon. The earlier activities, clanging of wrenches, pounding of hammers, shouts of instructions, heaving of combined force in lifting structures into place and the general buzz of group labors vanished. The stands, tents, games, rides and displays were ready for opening day. The rides were not the same as in Ohio. They looked the same. Makaila knew they were not. This was a different company.

Yet, it was all the same anyway.

A glow, like a candle in the window, and the voices of guitars, a banjo and drums led the way, calling Makaila forward.

“You okay?” she asked Judy.

“Kinda weird, I guess. I feel like a stranger.”

Makaila danced as she walked. “We all are until we say hello.” As they broke into the clearing where the bonfire was, all activity stopped and everyone’s attention fell on Makaila and Judy. Makaila bowed, her arms spread to receive nods and murmurs. A child, who reminded Makaila of Audrey, came forward, presenting a dozen long-stem yellow roses.

“Welcome back and please accept this gift from us.”

Makaila, with a smile and giggle, accepted the flowers and quickly took in the dynamics of the forty-odd people. “It’s great to be back.” She handed the flowers to Judy, plucking one from the bunch. She skipped-danced through the people, stopping in front of a tall chair on a raised platform.

Holding the rose in both hands, she offered the flower forward, her head bowed. “I return this to you, Bossman. Thank you for offering me a place to stay.”

The deformed man grunted, shifting his entire body to accept the gift. His eyes sparkled, a tear dripped down his cheek. She wiped his tear with the back of her hand, took his face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. The music came back up and the party continued.

Mike offered a hand to help Makaila back to the ground. “Good to see you. New look? You incognito?”

“I thought it was Pennsylvania.” She poked his ribs, giggling. “On the lam.” She took his hand and walked in the direction of Judy.

“No one should know you.”

“You all did, I hear.”

“Megan said you were coming. We were looking.”

“I kinda got stuck, no place to go.” She pulled on a man’s arm. “Sorry about the gut. Did you get the bat back?”

He rubbed his big stomach. “Least you hit me where I got all the padding. Yeah, Mike gave it to me.” He took her from Mike, dragging her away from the crowd, back to the games. He beamed, pointing.

The baseball bat hung on a gun rack at his stand. The sign below it read: In case of emergencies. “Madam Dandelion says it’s magic now. I don’t believe nothing of magic, but I don’t believe in taking risks, either.”

Judy, lost and alone, came up behind as they laughed. Makaila put her arm around her friend and kissed her on the cheek.

“What kind of emergencies?” Judy asked.

“This is Judy, my bud.”

“Batman.” The man offered a hand. “You didn’t brag on yourself?”

“About?” Makaila asked.

He laughed again.

 

As time went on, Judy warmed up as she spoke with many people.

Only a couple of hours? Seemingly, Makaila had known these people all her life.

“I kinda have.” Makaila and Judy sat by the fire. “They’re freaks, just like me.”

“You’re not a freak.”

“Oh, I may not have a gnarled face.” She waved to Bossman. “Or be both genders.” She smiled and waved to another person. “I may not be an albino with black eyes.” She exchanged smiles with Megan across the fire. “But, I’m more like them than I am you.” She giggled. “These people are me. I am these people.”

“I’ve never seen you so relaxed. There’s something different about you, here.”

“Subtle body. I don’t feel the need to contain myself so much, control my subtle body to the degree I usually do. It doesn’t matter here.” She giggled again. “Not that you can really hide from your own, anyway.”

Megan took a place next to Bossman, raising her hands to the night sky. All attention came to her. “I shall tell but two of the stories this night.” She drew moans from many people. “I know. It’s late and we have a big day tomorrow.

“In the time before we knew each other, there was a man whose real name was long forgotten. He was called monster and freak and ugly and grotesque and repulsive and inhuman and many other names. He was unloved and unwanted, even by his own family, his own parents. 

“There came many times he thought to kill himself and rid the world of that which they hated. A doctor once came to see him and offered to help. But, this doctor didn’t want to help, traveling from one center to another, showing off this man to others. Making money off this man’s misery, giving in return only something to eat and sometimes a bed to sleep on.

“The doctor became rich and the man suffered more and more. The doctor betrayed the man, right down to the core of his soul. The doctor could not trust anyone or anything, and became fearful of others. He kept the man in a wooden crate and he kept his ill-gotten money in a box under his bed.

“There came a night, in a drunken rage brought on by self-hate, the doctor beat the man almost to death. You see, the doctor was as horrid within as he saw the man to be as horrid without. He tried to beat himself.

“The man did, that night, kill the doctor and take all his money. A sizable amount. He created a home for himself, which travels around so people can see him, be saddened, offended or maybe even see themselves. It doesn’t matter why they come. They do. And, leave their money. In time, others joined and were hired by the man.

“We are those others and that is my story.”

Megan was treated to applause and bowed briefly. “For my second story, I shall tell a new one.”

She smiled, showing her palms to the stars. “We live in the goodness and the center of the light. We do only what we need do to be happy. We harm none and expect no harm from others. We celebrate life and life celebrates us. In our home, we live in perfect balance.

“But, all the world is not like us. There is a darkness that has its own will and hates light. And, this darkness is attracted to us. It is in hate with us. It is in love with us, too. It comes in the night, when eyes do not see. It lives in the shadows and stalks our souls, taking that which we own and sometimes taking life itself from our very belly.

“Not long ago, in the form of three ungodly and wretched men, this darkness came and attached itself to us. Whoa, to the good when Satan sends His misery on us! Nothing is safe from this darkness and we were helpless to do anything, because we cannot see that which is hidden in darkness.

“For months, they drained our souls and our goodness and we didn’t even know they were there. Sure, we suspected, we had a feeling, but the darkness is the greatest trickster. We were helpless before it and would have surely been destroyed if not for the help of that which is good. If not for the help of that which is as good as they were bad, as light as they were dark.

“There came a night when the darkness stole from our very womb the most innocent of innocents, a bright and shining child with more life ahead of her than stars in the sky. Their plan was the most profane sex, the cold, lifeless penetration of Satan Himself into her virginal, pure body and soul. The taking of this child’s life would have been minor compared to the violation of her soul!

“Into the dark woods, down in the darkness of the soul they dragged her, away from our light. Held to the cold ground, cold eyes searing into her flesh and her being, to corrupt her body, soul and spirit. Only, yes, only by an act of God could she be saved. Only by an act of God could the reign of darkness be stopped.”

Megan reached high with her right arm. “God did reach down to the Earth and say: This will not happen! And, the angel came to earth with a flaming sword and crushed the darkness, laying dead the husks of that which were already dead, draining the life back to the earth which birthed it.” She folded her hands in front of her chest as her eyes glistened in the fire’s glow. “And that is our story.”

 

65

“Wow.” Judy tried to fill her lungs. “I’ve never actually heard a real storyteller.”

“Did you like it?” Megan asked, dropping down next to Makaila. “Audrey told the bit with the angel and the sword. I kept it in.”

Judy’s eyes got big, looking across Makaila. “That really happened?”

Megan nudged Makaila. “You didn’t tell her?”

Makaila shrugged. “Kinda sorta, I guess. No, not really. You tell it like an urban legend.”

“Myth and legend are how all gods are made.”

Judy pulled on Makaila’s arm light-heartedly. “Tell me! Tell me!”

“I’d rather not.”

Megan leaned across Makaila to see Judy. “Just like I said, but take God, angels and the flaming sword out.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Three men dragged a child into the woods. Makaila followed and clobbered them.”

Makaila twisted her face. “I did to them what they were going to do to Audrey. Don’t glorify it. I just can’t get around the thought that I’m just like them. Like, what are their moms feeling about me? It’s not like I feel bad about murdering them. I feel bad that I’m like them.”

“Definitely not a psychopath.”

“Back on the road, Jo was a heartbeat away from death. I thought it, planned it and almost did it.”

“Jo?” Megan asked, slipping into her trance.

“Why?” Judy asked.

“Save the shtick for the tourist, witch.”

“Gypsy.”

“Because I got the idea she was looking for me, found me and was going to take me back.” She turned to Megan. “Gypsy. Save the shtick. If you see something, I’ll listen. You don’t need to give me funny twisty faces as proof.”

“How’d you figure?” Judy asked.

“She’s looking for you, but she’s not the enemy,” Megan stated, without her trance.

“That’s just a habit, the trance,” Makaila said to Megan. “Why’s she looking for me?” Back to Judy: “Carnival. Sent her subtle body off the charts, then you carried on and on, like you explained too much. I thought she recognized me.”

“The tire tool?”

“It’s a deep soul obsession,” Megan explained.

“Yeah,” to Judy and then to Megan: “She’s a cop. Dogging me for the murder?”

“Yes but no.”

“The three guys?” Judy asked.

“No.” Makaila answered Judy and then asked Megan: “Why’s she want to find me, then? If she’s a cop, who shot her?”

Judy put a palm on her forehead and raised the other hand. “Both of you shut up a minute. She’s a cop from New Jersey, driving a rental from Ohio. A rental. Someone shot her because they didn’t want her to do what she was doing: finding you. How’s that sound?”

“The spook.”

“A ghost?” Judy asked.

“Spook?” Megan asked.

Makaila stood up. “I’m only safe here if no one knows I’m here. If they know I’m here, no one here’s safe.”

Megan went to speak, to reassure her, but Makaila held her hand up.

“True story, witch.”

Megan nodded. “Then we bury you.”

“I’m Cathy Madison now.” She pulled Judy to her feet. “This is my sister, Judy.” She wrapped her arms around Judy and whispered in her ear. “I will not let anything happen to you because of me. I love you.”

Judy sobbed.

 

66

Makaila felt alone in the darkness, staring at the stars, snug in the borrowed sleeping bag. Judy slept in her own sleeping bag so close, Makaila could hear her breathing. She still felt alone. In earlier years, she felt she had no power over her life, her destiny. The people around her, the world around her, had complete power over her.

The time in the institute was no different from the time before the institute. The straps restraining her were different. Dr. Zogg offered words only seeming like freedom. Behind the words, hidden in the darkness of his intent, came tethers locking her actions and sight in what he wanted.

Makaila’s parents were no different.

Her parents did everything they could to minimize the impact Makaila had on their life. They, too, were no different from the institute, the ropes binding her only seemed different. Gaining freedom from the institute and her parent’s environment changed all that. On the farm, she was lulled into a sense of freedom, yet didn’t know what to do with her self-determination. With this sense of freedom, she was allowed to learn what it meant to be a human being in a society. Socialization, Judy called it.

Things weren’t different, just the rules were. Makaila watched Judy’s face lost in sleep and realized just how much impact she had on the world around her. Back in the world, the time in the institution and before, the only consequences were Makaila’s alone. With the arrival of the well-dressed man, clearly anyone around Makaila would bear the consequences. No one was safe around her.

Coming out of isolation meant everyone she cared for and cared for her was at risk. She felt the burning desire to walk away, leaving Judy and the others safe without her. She rolled her eyes up into her head.

 

67

Something was different. The canoe wasn’t in its usual place. Climbing the hill, Cat greeted her. “You’ve made some changes.”

“Good to see you, too.”

“Oh, calm down. I like it, even if you don’t look so much like me anymore.”

Makaila relaxed into the chair next to her friend. “Sorry, been a long day.”

“Or two?”

“Yeah. Like a year’s passed.” She took her friend’s hand against her cheek. “He’ll keep coming, won’t he?”

“Yeppers.”

“Why?”

“He’s on a mission from God.”

“Really?”

“No. He only thinks he is.”

“Strange. He didn’t seem like a religious guy.”

“I didn’t mean that. He feels he’s doing what’s right to protect his people. He wouldn’t use the word god, but there’s really no difference.”

“Who are his people? Maybe I can just give them a call and see what the deal is.”

“Now you’re thinking, but I didn’t mean that, either. He’s got this moral code and moral imperative, an idea of right and wrong. This code tells him what’s wrong and the imperative drives him to correct it any way he feels he needs to.”

Makaila nodded slowly. “Why am I so important? Why make me a life’s work?”

“You assume you’re the only one.”

Makaila was stunned. “I’m not?”

“Nope – just one person on a long list.”

“How long?”

Cat rolled her eyes into her head. “Fifty-seven so far.”

“Damn. That’s not a hobby. It’s a career!”

“Now you’re catching on.”

“I should have painted the wall with his brains.”

“I might have, if I were standing there.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. If I were you standing there, I might have.”

Makaila nodded again. “That would have gotten me back in the institution, for sure. Cold-blooded murder in front of Ma, Pops and Sheriff Powers.”

“Not the institution, but certainly an institution.” She pointed to the canoe far out on the lake. “Do you like to fish?”

“Never been fishing. Only when talking with you. So, maybe I should’ve tried to get him alone and blow his head off instead of running?”

“Why did he misrepresent himself at the house? Think carefully now.”

She thought carefully. “Okay. Okay, I get it. He wanted to do something to me. Right? Like back to the institution or. Right! Kill me.”

Cat smiled.

“So, if I got him alone and killed him, I’d be no different.”

“You would do that, why?”

“To save myself.”

“Think again.”

She bit her lip until she tasted blood. Her eyes went wide. “To protect my people!”

“Just like him.”

“So I’d be wrong.” Makaila fell back on her chair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Damn.” Makaila gnashed her teeth. “He’s just as right as I am, seeing it from where he’s sitting.”

“Sure. The only question you have is: what are you going to do about it? You staying for dinner?”

“Eh, no.”

“Fresh fish cooked over a fire?”

“I’ll pass, thanks.” Makaila stood and took Cat by the hands, pulling her to her feet. “There’s one other thing while I’m here.”

Cat put her fingers to Makaila’s cheeks and giggled. “I knew this was coming.” She pressed her lips softly on Makaila’s.

 

68

“For all she knows, she really knows nothing,” Megan said to the others. “I feel it’s our responsibility to teach her.”

“I’ll do it,” Mike offered. “She can be my second assistant.

Jill’s hand came hard up the back of Mike’s head. “One assistant is plenty for you, Husband. Besides, she needs a great deal more than you can teach. You forget you’re just a carny magician. I agree with Megan. I feel Megan’s the best choice.”

Megan remained stoic, watching the exchange she knew half in fun. She knew she was the only one to teach the child, but also knew everyone in the carny could offer much.

“I’m not sure we should even keep her around,” Willy, the grounds keeper stated. Willy was the oldest person with the carny and the longest friend of Bossman. They met more than twenty years before, Bossman bringing him from a life on the street. Next to Bossman, he was the last chair back. “I think she can bring only trouble.”

“Life is trouble,” Megan pointed out. “This is a special child and we have a responsibility. If you throw her out, I’m going with her.”

“There’s no trouble that can come up we can’t handle,” Mike said, secretly doubting his own statement. She’s a shooting star, destined to burn out.

“You didn’t see her carrying that child, Willy,” Jill said. “You didn’t see her that night. You don’t know.”

“Oh, I know. I know she’s trouble and I know no one’s safe with her around.”

The contorted voice of Bossman demanded attention. “We will give the child all she needs and all we can. Megan: you will teach her all you know. She will, for now, be your student, if she be willing. Mike, you will tutor in your art, if she be willing. Willy, my old friend, you will protect her with your life.”

Megan, Mike, Jill and Willy nodded together.

“As for this other one, Judy. Willy, if she be willing, she will be a utility person. Make room for her. Teach her well. She is a smart one.

“It’s late. Mike, if you would carry me to my trailer.”

 

69

The warm sun on her face and the drone of background activities brought Makaila from sleep. She opened her eyes. Judy and the sleeping bag were gone. A feeling of great loss filled her. The sun was low. She knew the day was still young. She smelled food and hurried toward it, quickly finding the makeshift dining tent.

Judy was in the back, wearing an apron and white ball cap, stirring a mixture in a bowl. “Good morning! Looks like I got a job!”

Makaila relaxed, knowing she could never slip away in the middle of the night, no matter what. “I thought you’d gone.”

“Not wild horse or even spooks!” She passed a mug of coffee. “I heard they got a job for you, too.”

“Tell me it’s not making mashed potatoes.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll let it be a surprise. Get something to eat. I’ll catch up to you. We have more than forty people to feed!”

 

70

Just how does one go about training a god?

Megan was a storyteller. As a child, because the other children ostracized, teased and feared her, she found her friends in her imagination and on the pages of the books. She was not a true albino. Her flesh was actually white, not colorless, a trick of the gene pool.

Crossing the barrier into her teens, with makeup and hair dye, she tried wearing a mask to look normal, but it was too late for her to join humanity. What separated her from others, what was skin deep in the tender years, oozed down the layers to her bones and permeated her soul.

She knew from her obsession with myths, the gods do not give a gift without a counterbalancing downside. She also knew the opposite true. What cast her out and forever separated her from all others, was what gave her a clear understanding, just by looking, of others. She was barely fourteen years old, attending a carnival, when a spiritual advisor, a gypsy, told her she was gifted with the light. She did show the Mark.

Megan’s mother was insane, never diagnosed, living in a time before the trend was fashionable to sit in an analyst’s office. In retrospect, Megan knew her mother had an undiagnosed mental disorder. As time passed, the mania deepened. The children in the neighborhood and even some adults thought her mother a witch. It didn’t take long for Megan’s classmates to nickname her baby witch.

Megan’s father had his own issues. “More issues than the periodical sections of the Library of Congress,” Megan had said. At the age of seventeen, Megan lived a cliché and ran away with the circus. Her first job with the circus was as a laborer but soon they dressed, or rather undressed, her in pasties and a thong, putting her on display at first as the girl who spent her life in a cave, and finally as the alien girl from outer space. She drew a crowd, mostly men.

She spent her spare time with the show’s mentalist and absorbed the tricks of the trade, eventually becoming his assistant, still in pasties and a thong. Megan acquired a long black robe and in her spare time gave people spiritual readings and advice as High Priestess Megan, Tenth Order Witch. South of the Mason-Dixon Line, the show was closed down and run out of town for satanic practices.

Megan worked on an accent, gathered fine, colorful fabrics, obtained several Tarot decks and a crystal ball. Madam Dandelion the Gypsy was born. She quickly became popular and a moneymaker, yet was still required to undress as the mentalist’s assistant. Understanding she could never truly have her own voice because everyone in the show knew her as the space alien, she left the circus, drifting for a handful of years. She spent some years with another show studying under Lilith, who taught her beyond the temporal. She left when Lilith died, dragging a trunk full of Lilith’s books behind her. She finally met Bossman. Everyone knew her as the Gypsy Madam Dandelion.

 

“I think I’d rather cook and clean up like Judy.” Makaila presented herself wearing one of Megan’s outfits.

“If that’s what you really wish. I think you should try this first and see if you like it.” Megan folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head. “The look doesn’t work on you. You don’t look gypsy enough.”

“Fair enough. I’ve been trying lots of new things lately. What does a gypsy look like?”

“What people think a gypsy looks like.” Megan rifled through an old cardboard box and came up with a plastic bag. “This might just work.” From the bag, she produced a long, flowing white silk robe. “One of the few things I have from my childhood. My church choir robe.”

“Huh? You went to church?”

“Sh.” She put a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell.”

“It did surprise me last night when you said all that God stuff. I thought witches weren’t into God.”

“Gypsy.” Standing back and eyeing Makaila in the robe, Megan commanded: “Take your shoes, socks and pants off. Your feet have to be bare to the earth. That was just a story told in a way people would understand it best. As for witchy stuff, there’s no sense talking about things people aren’t going to understand. It needs something.” Back in the box, Megan found a two-inch thick gold drape cord. She reached the cord around Makaila and tied it in front.

“Stolen from the church, too? Do you think I’ll understand the witchy stuff?”

“No and of course. Still something missing.” Once more in the box, Megan found and placed a gold jeweled tiara on Makaila’s head. Stepping back. “One more thing.” Megan hung a thick eight-inch gold cross on a heavy gold chain around Makaila’s neck. “I think we’ve got it!”

Makaila faced the mirror. “I look like a virgin ready to be sacrificed to the gods.”

“God’s Lamb. Sure. I like it.”

“God’s Lamb?”

“Yes. You need a stage name.”

“Magical name?”

“Whatever.”

“Okay. I got like this cool get-up. What do I do now?”

“For now, I want you to watch me work for a while and then we’ll see what you’re comfortable with.”

“You mean tell people what to do in their life? I can do that already.”

Megan nodded. “You’re very good and a natural. However, you need to learn some showmanship.”

“Why?”

“So people feel they get their money’s worth. This is how we make a living.”

“I’m loaded. I don’t need to make a living. Give me a better reason.”

Megan’s eyes grew cold. “So you can learn what it is to be a human being, by working with them and listening to them.”

Makaila dropped her eyes to the floor. “I don’t belong here, do I?”

“No, you don’t.”

What she always felt the truth, arrived like a cold slap in the face coming from someone she trusted. Makaila locked eyes with her teacher.

“So why am I here?”

Megan put a palm to the child’s face. “That’s not an easy question to answer, and I’m not sure I know.”

“Just one of them feelings?”

“Yes.”

“Then I have no reason to believe it.”

Megan sighed. “My child, this world was not meant for one as beautiful as you.”

“Like one of the purest souls that ever took flesh?”

“Exactly!”

“Yeah, right. You got your scarf around your neck too tight.”

“Just maybe. You are much too easy to love.”

“Tell that to my parents.”

“It’s them, not you. They just can’t see for looking.”

Makaila twisted her face. “Okay. I’ll take all this under advisement. Things have like been moving way too quick for me to even get my brain in gear. I’ve been on this adrenaline high from the second I saw that slug sitting in my chair at the farm. I gotta like shake out and get some air in my lungs.”

Megan closed her eyes and nodded. “Of course. There’s no hurry.”

“I’ll do as you ask. I’ll hang out, watch you work and help out and stuff. Just give me a day or so to shake the dirt off.”

“You misunderstood. You may do anything you wish. We are here to help.”

“In the way you think I need helping?”

“I only want to share with you what I know. I want to give you what I have learned.”

“Fair enough. Just cut the talk about me being a god or something. I’m not. I’m just a kid that’s nuts.”

“Deal.”

 

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