August leans over and straightens up with Marlena over his shoulder. She pounds his back with her fists, kicking her legs and screaming. She almost manages to slide off his shoulder, but he just hitches her back up and marches off.
“Marlena! Marlena!” I bellow, renewing my struggle.
I twist out from under Blackie’s knee and am halfway to my feet before something crashes into the back of my head. My brain and eyes jolt in their cavities. My vision fills with black and white sparkles and I think I might also be deaf. After a moment my vision starts to return, from the outside in. Faces appear and mouths move, but all I hear is an earsplitting buzz. I weave on my knees trying to figure out who and what and where but now the ground comes screaming toward me. I’m powerless to stop it so I brace myself, but in the end it isn’t necessary because the blackness swallows me before it hits.
COLLECTION OF THE RINGLING CIRCUS MUSEUM, SARASOTA, FLORIDA
Shh, don’t move.”
I’m not, although my head jiggles and jerks with the motion of the train. The engine’s whistle blows mournfully, a distant sound that somehow cuts through the insistent buzzing in my ears. My whole body feels like lead.
Something cold and wet hits my forehead. I open my eyes and see a panoply of shifting color and forms. Four blurred arms cross my face and then merge into a single foreshortened limb. I gag, my lips involuntarily forming a tunnel. I turn my head, but nothing comes out.
“Keep your eyes closed,” says Walter. “Just lie still.”
“Hrrmph,” I mumble. I let my head fall to the side, and the cloth falls from it. A moment later it’s replaced.
“You took a good hit. Glad to see you back.”
“Is he coming around?” says Camel. “Hey, Jacob, you still with us?”
I feel like I’m rising from a deep mine, am having trouble placing myself. I appear to be on the bedroll. The train is already moving. But how did I get here and why was I asleep?
Marlena!
My eyes snap open. I struggle to rise.
“Didn’t I tell you to lie still?” Walter scolds.
“Marlena! Where’s Marlena?” I gasp, falling back on the pillow. My brain rolls in my head. I think it’s been shaken loose. It’s worse when my eyes are open and so I close them again. With all visual stimulus removed, the blackness feels larger than my head, as though my cranial cavity has turned inside out.
Walter is kneeling beside me. He removes the rag from my forehead, dips it in water, and then squeezes out the excess. The water trickles back into the bowl, a clean, clear sound, a familiar tinkling. The buzzing starts to subside, replaced by a pounding ache that sweeps from ear to ear around the back of my skull.
Walter brings the rag back to my face. He wipes my forehead, cheeks, and chin, leaving my skin damp. The cooling tingle is grounding, helps me concentrate on the outside of my head.
“Where is she? Did he hurt her?”
“I don’t know.”
I open my eyes again, and the world tilts violently. I struggle up on my elbows and this time Walter doesn’t push me down. Instead, he leans over and peers into my eyes. “Shit. Your pupils are different sizes. You feel up to drinking something?” he says.
“Uh . . . yeah,” I gasp. Finding words is hard. I know what I want to express, but the pathway between my mouth and brain might as well be stuffed with cotton.
Walter crosses the room, and a bottle cap clinks to the floor. He comes back and holds a bottle to my lips. It’s sarsaparilla. “It’s the best I’ve got, I’m afraid,” he says ruefully.
“Damned cops,” Camel grumbles. “You okay, Jacob?”
I’d like to answer, but staying upright is taking all my concentration.
“Walter, is he okay?” Camel sounds significantly more worried this time.
“I think so,” says Walter. He puts the bottle on the floor. “You want to try sitting up? Or you want to wait a few minutes?”
“I’ve got to get Marlena.”
“Forget it, Jacob. There’s nothing you can do right now.”
“I’ve got to. What if he . . .?” My voice cracks. I can’t even finish the sentence. Walter helps me into a sitting position.
“There’s nothing you can do right now.”
“I don’t accept that.”
Walter turns in fury. “For Christ’s sake, would you just listen to me for once?”
His anger startles me into silence. I rearrange my knees and lean forward so my head is resting on my arms. It feels heavy, huge—at least as large as my body.
“Never mind that we’re on a moving train and you’ve got a concussion. We’re in a mess. A big mess. And the only thing you can do right now is make it worse. Hell, if you hadn’t been knocked flat and if we didn’t still have Camel here, I’d have never gotten back on this train tonight.”
I stare between my knees at the bedroll, trying to concentrate on the largest fold of material. Things are steadier now, not shifting so much. With each passing minute, additional parts of my brain are kicking in.
“Look,” Walter continues, his voice softer, “we’ve got three days left before we off-load Camel. And we’re just going to have to cope the best we can in the meantime. That means watching our backs and not doing anything stupid.”
“Off-load Camel?” says Camel. “Is that how you think of me?”
“At the moment, yes!” barks Walter. “And you should be grateful we do, because what the hell do you think would happen to you if we took off right now? Hmmm?”
There is no answer from the cot.
Walter pauses and sighs. “Look, what’s happening with Marlena is terrible, but for God’s sake! If we leave before Providence, Camel’s done for. She’s going to have to look after herself for the next three days. Hell, she’s done it for four years. I think she can last another three days.”
“She’s pregnant, Walter.”
“What?”
There is a long silence. I look up.
Walter’s forehead is creased. “Are you sure?”
“So she says.”
He stares into my eyes for a long time. I try to meet his gaze, but my eyes jerk rhythmically to the side.
“All the more reason to play this carefully. Jacob, look at me!”
“I’m trying!” I say.
“We’re going to get out of here. But if we’re all going to make it, we’ve got to play it right. We can’t do anything—anything!—until Camel’s gone. The sooner you get used to that, the better.”
There’s a sob from the cot. Walter turns his head. “Shut it, Camel! They wouldn’t be taking you back if they hadn’t forgiven you. Or would you rather be redlighted?”
“I don’t rightly know,” he cries.
Walter turns back to me. “Look at me, Jacob. Look at me.” When I do, he continues. “She’ll handle him. I tell you, she’ll handle him. She’s the only one who can. She knows what’s at stake. It’s only for three days.”
“And then what? Like you’ve said all along, we have nowhere to go.”
He turns his face away in anger. Then he spins back. “Do you truly comprehend the situation here, Jacob? Because sometimes I wonder.”
“Of course I do! It’s just I’m not liking any of the options.”
“Me neither. But like I said, we’ll have to sort that out later. Right now let’s just concentrate on getting out of here alive.”
CAMEL SOBS AND SNIFFS his way to sleep, despite Walter’s repeated assurances that his family will welcome him with open arms.
Eventually he drifts off. Walter checks him one more time and then turns off the lamp. He and Queenie retire to the horse blanket in the corner. A few minutes later he begins to snore.