Malcolm heard the crowd laugh with Styles and he knew the showman had them in his pocket. He was glad that Bateman would make a few extra dollars these last two days. It would be partial repayment for the happy time this summer that Styles had given him.
He finished dressing and entered the old chimpanzee cage. Styles had talked about getting a more elaborate cage but had not got around to it. Malcolm had developed a feeling almost of affection for the cage. The door in the back was never locked, of course, and when the power of the beast flowed through his body he could have easily ripped it apart. The marks did not know this, of course.
He sat on the stool and listened to the babble of voices beyond the curtain as the crowd streamed in.
When the tent was full, Bateman slipped in through the rear and winked at Malcolm. "Everything all right, lad?"
"Everything's fine, Bate."
"Good. Let's give 'em their five dollars' worth."
Styles stepped through the curtain for his introduction speech. He was in masterful form, and he had the marks howling for action even before the curtain was pulled aside. Malcolm smiled happily.
"And now the moment for which we have all waited..." Styles intoned. "And paid our five dollars for," somebody in the crowd added.
"I give you, for the very last time, in his farewell appearance... Grolo the Animal Boy!"
He pulled back the curtain and Malcolm assumed the puzzled and rather embarrassed look they had perfected over the summer. He sat on the stool, hands folded in his lap, and tried not to smile as he thought about rejoining Holly Lang.
"Well, what's the matter, Grolo, off your feed tonight?" Batmen said in his tone of mock anger. "Surely this is not what the good people paid to see."
The crowd joined in enthusiastically.
"Yeah, what a phony!"
"Do something, stupid!"
"What is it, a wax dummy?"
"Give us our money back!"
"Look, he's even smiling!"
Malcolm left the stool and walked in a crouch to the front of the cage. There he clutched the bars as he always did and stared out at the people hurling insults at him. He tried, as he had taught himself, to summon up the hateful, painful things that had been done to him in the past. But tonight, try as he might, all he could think about was going back with Holly and maybe... just maybe finding a cure that would make him normal, like other boys.
After several minutes of no action the tone of the crowd changed. Where the insults and jeers had been good-natured, a part of the act, they began to turn ugly as Malcolm stood gazing out over their heads with a half smile on his face.
"Come on, we haven't got all night!"
"What's the matter with him? I thought he was supposed to change into an animal."
"Hell, he's not doing anything!"
"We've been robbed!"
"Come on," a burly tattooed man yelled, "let's pull him out of there and make him do something!"
Bateman Styles, who had been watching Malcolm anxiously, turned quickly to the crowd when he heard the last comment.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm very sorry, but the Animal Boy is not feeling well tonight. He will be unable to perform."
"Bull! It's part of the act."
"I assure you, young man, this is an unscheduled interruption. If you will kindly file out, I will personally hand each and every one of you a pass to tomorrow's show."
"Pass, hell, what if there ain't no show tomorrow?"
The crowd shifted, looking as though it might advance on the stage.
Styles said quickly, "You're absolutely right. Your money will be refunded out in front; each and every dollar will be returned with my sincerest regrets."
"You can stuff your regrets," somebody said. "Just give us our money."
The crowd laughed, and the ugly moment had passed. They trooped out of the tent and Styles followed with the cash box. As he passed through the entrance flap he turned for a long, sad look at Malcolm, then continued outside to return the money.
When the showman returned Malcolm had left the cage and was sitting slumped in a wooden chair behind the curtain.
"I let you down, Bate," he said. "I'm sorry."
"Nonsense, my boy, nonsense," boomed Styles. "You could no more help yourself than I could jump over the Ferris wheel."
"I tried. Really I did."
Bateman pulled the stool out of the cage and sat next to him "I know that, Malcolm, and I think I know why it didn't work. You're happy, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah, I guess so."
"Of course you are. I could see it in your eyes when you came out and saw that Dr. Lang tonight. You like her a lot, don't you?"
Malcolm nodded. "Holly was a friend when I needed one. Like you, Bate."
"Thank you, my boy. I appreciate being included in that company. However, as they say, sometimes friends must part, and I guess this is the time for you and me, right?"
Malcolm swallowed hard. "I guess it is. Holly's a doctor, and she's going to try to cure me. Make me normal."
"Unquestionably a worthwhile endeavor."
"If it works out, and I'm just like everybody else, I'd be no good to you, would I?"
"Utter nonsense, my boy. You are a natural for the carnival life. Anytime you want to come back, just look up Bateman Styles and we'll work something out."
"Sure, Bate. Thanks."
Styles lit a Camel and coughed into a handkerchief. "I'd better go clean up out front. Will you be staying in the trailer tonight?"
"If it's all right. Then I'll leave tomorrow with Holly."
"Of course it's all right. I may be in a bit late myself. I'll try not to wake you."
Styles pushed through the curtain and eased himself down off the stage. He started for the front of the tent, slowing down when he saw a man standing in the entrance flap.
"Sorry, bud, the show's over. No more shows tonight."
"I know," the man said. "I saw the last one."
"What's the problem? Didn't you get your money back?"
"I don't want my money back. I have a proposition for you."
Styles looked more closely at the man. He was not big, but he was wiry and seemed charged with nervous energy. His hair was slicked back, his eyes bright and a little too close together.
"What kind of a proposition?"
"First let me introduce myself. I am Dr. Wayne Pastory."
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
It seemed to be his day for meeting doctors, Bateman Styles decided. The first had taken away his livelihood; now this one was offering him a proposition. Holly Lang appeared to be authentic, but Bateman was inclined to be skeptical about Wayne Pastory. He had known too many self-proclaimed 'doctors' who used the title as part of a scam. And this wiry man had the over intense look of somebody not playing with a full deck.
"You say you have a proposition, Dr. Pastory," Styles said carefully.
"Yes, I think it might be of some interest to you. Is there somewhere we can talk?"
"Right here is as good a place as any."
Pastory looked back doubtfully at the entrance. "We won't be disturbed?"
"There won't be anybody coming in," Styles told him. "The rest of the shows have been canceled."
"Ah, yes, so I understand. That rather undercuts your income, I would guess."
"You could say that."
"Perhaps I can make that a little easier for you." He looked quickly at Styles. "I don't know what your relationship has been with this, er, Animal Boy, but I assume he is of no further use to you."
"The relationship has been a professional one," Styles said slowly. "And no, it doesn't look like we'll be performing again."