Pagewalker (22 page)

When we were about a mile from the tents Abe
signalled us to lye in the grass. He told me to wait while he
scouted on up ahead to see what was ahead. From what we could tell,
the round tents with pointed roofs were those of a circus. The blue
and white or red and white stripes had faded on the material and
the paint on the signs had run from being beaten by the weather it
must have faced over many, many years. They now read ‘Amazing
fly--- men’ and ‘Worlds S------ Face’ most worrying however was
simply a smudged sign with an empty trapeze and the only clear word
at the bottom of the sign was ‘Death’ I don’t know what way that
was supposed to look but it sent chills down my spine when I saw
it. Just plain creepy, saying that there didn’t seem to be much of
a smudge of fade from above those letters. I’m not really sure what
it was supposed to say then. I do now.

Tessa and I had watched Abe creep up behind
the circle of smaller tents and make his way silently to the
opening to peer into the large tent. We could just about see him
lift up a flap and then freeze. He must have stood there, peering
into the tent for at least ten minutes. Not moving not shaking,
just holding the flap above his head as he stood half way into the
tent. Then the flap fell from his hand and blocked his from our
sight.

We waited for a while longer. Then even
longer still. An hour, at least, had passed and I was beginning to
worry. It seemed he was not coming back. Fear set in then. The
heart dropping, cold sweat fear that comes over you like a wet
blanket. If he was hurt, or gone, I would be lost. I had been
following him blindly for days. I had no map, other than the one in
my mind. I had drawn it in the first place, but without looking at
it for reference I was still lost. He knew where Garret and Sarah
could be. I did not. My mind was made up. If you know me you will
know that that happens pretty quickly. Once I’ve decided then
that’s it. No moving me. I told Tessa to stay, she did, she is
great that way. I creped up to the tent, following the same route
Abe had trodden out before me. I say creped but it was like an
elephant creeping through a stadium of bubble wrap. Not very
stealthy. Lets just say Sam Fisher’s job is pretty safe. No contest
here.

So I made my way finally to where Abe had
entered the Tent. It was the largest circus tent I had ever seen.
The only circus I had ever seen was the like of Duffy’s in County
down or even the Russian circus in the Titanic quarter a few years
ago. They were dwarfed tenfold by the tent I was about to
enter.

The think canvas was heavy from its sheer
size. How Abe had lifted and held it above his head was a wonder. I
lifted the corner where the rope had been unlaced and curled it up
high enough for me to crawl under. It was dark inside, my eyes were
not adjusting as fast as they should. It must have been the
dehydration or lack of food over the last few days. Few carrots
would not have gone a miss. That was the reason we had stopped in
the first place. Abe was to go ahead and see what we could barter
for a meal. That decision turned out to be our worst.

My eyes slowly came around. The first thing I
could see was the outline of a small man. It could only be Abe. He
was standing only a foot or two from where I had seen him last,
before the tarp fell from his grip behind him. He was staring dead
ahead. Towards a large pillar of light from the hole in the roof to
the middle of the circus ring. As my vision returned I could make
out the inside of the circus tent. The ring was larger than I knew
possible. The interior of this tent was so much larger and
disproportionate to the size of the exterior. To explain better, I
crawled into the tent from the base of the cover, along the grass
and dirt, but when I stood up inside I was on the back row of the
high circumference seats. The base of the circus sank deep into the
ground. Like standing on the edge of a sink hole or the back seats
of a massive stadium. I felt immediate vertigo as though I had
walked out on the ledge of a skyscraper looking down. That however
was not the most shocking of sights. I put my hand on Abe’s
shoulder and the two of us stood in deathly silence. Out of both
fear and respect. Sat in the seats and spread over the benches were
bodies. Old, bloodied and rotting bodies. Limbs had been torn from
most and every one had died in a struggle. They looked as though
they were trying to climb up towards to entrance at the far side of
the tent. There were burn marks coming from the base of the pit,
reaching high up to the singed ropes overhead. Scorched props and
cages lay dry and black. The wood looked rotted from the flames.
Charcoal has turned everything black. The bodies that were not
dismembered had been singed, to a crisp. Some wore armour. Some
wore rags. Some wore nothing. All were dead. On the eastern side of
the circle sat a large chair. Not quite a throne but a definite
place for someone of authority to rest. There was a platform there
and underneath the platform was a doorway that lead from the centre
of the pit to what I could only imagine as the backstage.
Instruments lay on seats, untouched from last time they were
played. They sat neatly where they had been placed. Miraculously
the flames had not bleed over the balcony on which the chairs were
fixed. The body of a burnt animal lay curled in the centre of the
room. I could not guess the species. It was too crisp and black for
that. It was as large as a gorse but the legs were not quite long
enough. It had a large spear protruding from its side so I can only
assume it was a dangerous animal killed during the panic of the
fire. Or perhaps what caused the panic and fire in the first
place.

Abe still said nothing as he took everything
in. Tears in his eyes but I felt no sadness from him. I struggled
to speak. I returned outside, the air in there was thick and dry. I
felt my mouth and nostrils turn to sawdust. Like a dry heat sauna I
couldent even caugh from the lack of moisture in the air. Outside I
walked around the Tent to the entrance. What I found ther was as
terrible as the inside. The door to the tent had been barred shut.
A plank of wood between the handles and a kart rolled in front of
the entrance flaps. Inside the carts were two dead Lions. Both
again had bolts and spears embedded deep into their sides and back
of the heads. This looked like an attack. This was no fire
accident. This had been planned. By blood ran cold and I lost
control of what little food I had in my belly. I fell to my knees
and retched onto the dry and dusty ground. Tessa came to see if I
was ok but I had to push her away. I could not even look at the
bodies. My stomach was weak and my senses were overloaded. The
smell hit me as I started to get to my feet and with that came the
guilt. My first reaction to the smell was excitement. I know it
sounds disgusting. It was a primal basic hunger. The smell of
cooking meat made my mouth water. It wasn’t until my brain caught
up that I realised what the smell really was. The burnt meat from
corpses. I can safely say I have never felt guilt and confusion
quite like that. I could only tell you it was a disgust and shame
cocktail. On the rocks.

Looking around the fairground it was pure
destruction. Like something from a silent hill game. Everything was
broken, ripped or burnt. The remnants of a busy evening long past
lay as evidence on the ground. Blown by the winds on the plains to
cling to the sides of the tents and fair ground stalls. I kicked
some of the sweeping paper bags and glass bottles from my path and
continued to walk through what looked like an abandoned movie set
from a student shot zombie film. Some bodies lay in the ground,
always in groups of three or four. My surrounding phased me in a
way that is truly hard to convey. It was like a dream state I was
walking in. Like I said before it felt as though I had stepped into
a video game. Everything was familiar but not at the same time.
There were definite signs of struggle and of a fight or scuffle.
There were however no survivors or anyone to tell the tales I so
longed to hear. That has, and still is one of my biggest flaws. I
just need to know! It doesn’t really matter what the issue is, I
just need to know. Be that who slipped at the ocars, even though I
despise celebrity culture or who is dating who on the red carpet.
Again, even though I hate that world. Sarah Usually kept me up to
date with E News. I hate what she tells me half the time but again,
I just need to know. This was a little more serious however. People
lives were at stake, or lack there of. I called out as I walked
around. Checking in ever small tent and cast tents too but there
was no one. It began to become a sorry and depressing game of hide
and seek. A game where I kept winning but felt as though I lost
more with each find. I must have circled the whole circus perimeter
because I found myself back by the barred doors behind the lion
corpse wagon. Abe was kneeling by a brown patch of land. A square
of flattened and dead grass. Like a crop circle only, well,
square.

“Abe, what happened here?” I asked but he did
not reply. He simply remained crouched in the flattened grass. The
outline of a wagon by the looks of things. There where wheel tracks
that turned to the east up ahead. Someone had left here in a
hurry.

“Two sets of tracks me boy” Abe pointed to
the ground and followed the marks as he spoke, still not looking to
me.

“Survivors?” I questioned “Of who did
this?”

“I fear the opposite son, the one that did
this I believe.” Abe’s voice was solemn and soft. I followed behind
him as he traced the path of the wagon that had left. His hands on
the ground as he crawled along until he stopped dead in front of a
stack of hay bails. His head hung and he made his way to his feet.
Covering his mouth he took a step further then fell to the ground
with a cry. He continued to sob as I approached. I could not see
what was behind the hay bails on my approach but once I turned the
corner it all made sense. The body of a man and a woman were curled
together. Blood had stained the entire surrounding area. Movies,
books and games cannot prepare you for seeing so much blood. The
bodies had been cut it prime places. They had bled out while
comforting each other in the fact they would be together in death.
It was heart-breaking but yet oddly comforting, just to know they
died together in the arms of each other. The man had tattered
clothes, it looked like jester outfit. Torn and caked in mud that
was now died red. She too had a similar outfit on, hers didn’t look
quite as bad but it still had the markings of wear and tear. Some
burn marks on the sleeves too.

“Abe, what is going on, who could do this?”
Is all I could seem to say? He remained silent, he approached the
bodies and closed the eyes of the girl. She had been staring at the
sky when she had died. Closing the eyelids was a way to ensure
sleep, long, eternal sleep. “Abe, we should go. What is the people,
or monsters that did this return? I sure as hell do not want to be
here if they do.” I grabbed Abe by the back of his shirt as I tried
to pull him away. He slapped my hand and continued to rummage in
the satchels of the fallen man. Disgusted as his opportunistic,
thieving ways I pulled him back, off his feet and onto his
backside.

“Have a little bloody respect Abe, for flip
sake!” I yelled at the Luchorpán as he brushed himself of and
steadied himself to his feet again. “I’m not stealing you thick
headed pillock!” He spat at me, 2Im looking for this!” He charged
past me and lifted a book from the hand behind the woman’s body.
The dead man had held this with one hand and his partner with the
other. It must have had some great significance. Abe opened it and
flicked thought he pages, His eyes scanned the pages quickly like a
child looking through the bible for pictures. He turned the pages
faster and faster until he slammed the book closed and threw it
towards me. He slammed the ground with his fists and swore in a
language I did not understand, and glad I didn’t. It sounded
foul.

“What were you hoping to find in there?” I
asked him.

“Well it doesn't matter now son does it?” he
kicked loose grass and dirt in the direction of the book, “It’s
written in a language I don’t know, waste of my bloody time, as
usual!” Abe was fuming and struggled to keep any form of composure.
“I can’t bloody read it so we are never going to know what went on
here!” He got to his feet and walked away. Still mumbling and
swearing he sulked away from the circus paddock into the endless
sea of grass, hands in pockets and kicking the small stones in the
green blades.

I would never profess to be a genius, but I
do have some frigging great ideas from time to time! For example, I
lifted the book that Abe couldn’t read and wondered of a way to
translate. Here’s the good bit, In a moment of clarity and
excitement I opened the Book to the middle to last page, rolled up
my sleeves, took of my boots and socks and stepped onto the book. A
foot on each page.

“Hey, Abe, lucky you have me around isn’t
it?” I didn’t have time to see his expression as he turned because
I was transported into the book, the now familiar feeling of
swimming through paragraphs, words and fonts lapping over my head
as the smells transported me to the beach of this world. Since it
was not my writing, like the last time I page walked, I was really
there as an observer, a fan, an impartial onlooker. Like
controlling kill-cam in a FPS shooter. I hoped this would explain
the story behind the fateful circus we were currently in. The words
were foreign to me. I could make sense of the order of the letters
but the meanings became clear as the picture and surroundings came
into focus I could see the corpse we had found clinging to the
book. He was in the position we were standing now. All time began
to speed, faster and faster like rewinding a VHS. Time lapsed back,
farther and farther. I felt sucked into the pages and into the
rewind. Everything was a blue moving backwards. It led me to the
point of the beginning of the book he held. When he had begun to
write things down. He was in a Circus tent. Battered, bruised and
in pain by the looks of things. I could see his hand writing the
words on the pages of this book. Then I could hear them, as though
he were thinking them aloud. Before long colours faded like a
watercolour dipped into a stream. Slowly the colours re-positioned
and the story began.