Blind Voices, page 4
“I’m waiting for the Snake Goddess,” Jack answered and squirmed nervously.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Louis bellowed, “Tiny Tim, the smallest man in the world!”
For a moment nothing happened, then the door of the doll house opened and Tiny Tim stepped out. A gasp fluttered through the audience. He was twelve inches tall, as promised, but the tiny figure was strangely misshapen. He was a hunchback and had a crooked leg. His face was like wax on the verge of melting. The crowd strained forward. They had known he was supposed to be twelve inches tall, but they hadn’t really realized just how small that actually was. Some in the back stood up for a better look.
Finney grabbed Jack’s arm and they stared, their eyes wide and their mouths open. The crowd began to murmur.
“How do they do it?” Rose hissed in amazement.
“Probably with mirrors… or something?” Harold answered and wished he could take off his sweater.
“Please keep your seats, ladies and gentlemen,” Louis admonished. “You’ll all have an opportunity to see Tim up close.” He turned to the tiny man. “Tim, would you like to sing and dance for the nice people? They’ve come to see you and it would be unkind to disappoint them.”
Tim looked up at Louis. “Yes,” he said in a small whispery voice that could hardly be heard.
There was another gasp from the audience. Finney and Jack clutched at each other in excitement that could hardly be restrained.
“Sumbitch,” Finney squeaked.
Rose stared and put her hand on Harold’s arm. “Is the guy a ventriloquist too?”
Louis held up his hand for quiet. “Okay, Tim. These nice people are waiting.”
The air in the tent rang with silence. Tim began to sing. His voice was tiny, but it was clear and melodious, and the song he sang was slow and sad. Then he danced, slowly, awkwardly, and grotesquely, his misshapen body unable to coordinate properly.
Evelyn frowned and looked away.
After a moment Louis leaned over and put his hand palm-up on the table. Tim stopped dancing and, still singing, stepped into Louis’s hand. Louis lifted him up.
The houselights brightened. Louis stepped off the stage and walked slowly down the aisle to the rear of the tent. He turned and paused, holding the tiny singing man before him. Every head was twisted around and every eye was on his hand. Even though Tim’s voice was very small, the inside of the tent was so hushed he could be heard clearly by everyone. Louis returned slowly to the stage.
He mounted the stage and put his hand on the table. Tim got off as the song ended and bowed to the silent faces. The silence continued for a moment and then was abruptly broken by frantic clapping from Finney and Jack. The others slowly picked it up. They laughed nervously. Then they cheered and laughed and slapped their hands together.
Tim bowed again, then turned and entered the doll house. The roustabouts came out and pushed the table to the rear of the stage, the curtains closing behind them. Louis held up his arms and grinned as the houselights dimmed. He waited a moment for the noise to die down.
“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Tim appreciates your warm reception, but there are many more wonders to see.” Shuffling and scraping sounds came from behind the curtain.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Louis continued, “there are many instruments of death used in the world to execute criminals and murderers. In France they use the guillotine. In the heathen countries of the East they use methods too terrible to describe before a good American, Christian audience. In this country several means are employed. In some states, murderers are hung, in others they are shot. The gas chamber is used and…” the curtains rattled open “… the electric chair, from which there is no escape!”
“Not too many recover from the guillotine either,” Rose murmured.
Louis walked slowly behind the heavy wooden chair spotlighted on the stage. He put his hands on the back of it and paused dramatically. The audience leaned forward.
“There is no escape… except for one man!”
Louis turned and swung his arm toward the wings. A man stepped out. He was barefoot and shirtless, but a black hood was pulled over his head. He stood with his legs apart and his chest out. He turned his shrouded face toward the rows of people.
“Electro, the Lightning Man!” Louis’s voice rang powerfully through the tent. Electro walked slowly to the chair. He was followed by the two men who had pushed forward the doll house. He sat stiffly, in an attitude of fearlessness, a sheen of perspiration on his chest. The roustabouts buckled heavy straps around his arms, legs, and chest and left the stage. Louis walked forward again. “Ladies and gentlemen, if Electro is ever executed in a state that uses the electric chair, there will be quite a few very surprised people.”
He grinned and there was a slight laugh from the audience. “This electric chair, ladies and gentlemen, is one that was actually used to execute hundreds of criminals in one of this great country’s state prisons. The electric current that will go through Electro’s body when I pull this switch…” he placed his hand on a large knife switch mounted on a pole attached to the side of the chair “… will be exactly the same as used in that state prison.”
The audience shifted expectantly.
“Are you ready, Electro?”
The black-covered head nodded. Louis closed his fingers slowly around the switch handle, paused to milk the last drop of suspense, and threw the switch. The chair hummed and crackled. Electro’s body twitched and jerked. Louis turned off the switch and the man in the chair slumped back.
“Are you all right, Electro?”
The head under the hood nodded again. There was an almost inaudible release of breath from the audience.
“Are you ready, Electro?”
The hood dipped slightly and Louis pulled the switch again. The electric hum and crackle resumed. Electro trembled. Louis reached behind the chair and brought out an iron bar with a rubber handle. He held the bar over his head so the audience could see.
“As you can observe, this has a rubber handle because, unlike Electro, I am not immune to electricity.”
Holding the bar by the rubber end, he reached out and touched the arm of the chair. A shower of sparks flew from the contact, filling the air with the smell of ozone. The audience inhaled loudly. He touched the chair again and again in many different places, each time producing a cascade of sparks.
Jack leaned over and whispered to Finney. “I think this is a trick.”
Finney nodded. “Yes, but it’s a very good trick.”
Louis put the iron bar away and turned off the switch. Electro slumped in the chair again, his chest rising and falling rapidly. A drop of perspiration rolled over his stomach.
“Are you all right, Electro?”
The hooded head dipped forward. Louis turned to the audience with an expansive smile and spread his arms for applause. The two roustabouts came from the wings and unstrapped the man in the electric chair. Electro stood up, bowed to the applause, and walked from the stage as the chair was pushed behind the curtain.
“I hope the rest of it isn’t as phony as that,” Harold groaned.
“Tiny Tim wasn’t a phony,” Evelyn pointed out, arching her eyebrows.
Harold grunted. “Electro the Lightning Man certainly was.”
There was once again shuffling and scraping behind the curtain. Louis walked to the edge of the stage and assumed a serious pose. The applause quickly subsided into silence.
“Many years before the fall of Troy,” Louis intoned solemnly, “there were three wicked sisters called the Gorgons. They had snakes instead of hair on their heads, and anyone who gazed upon them was turned instantly into stone.”
Behind him the curtain was slowly opening. Two panels about the size of doors, ornately decorated with fading paint and flaking gilt, stood side by side with one panel set slightly behind the other.
“Greek mythology tells us that one of these sisters, the one named Medusa, was killed by Perseus with the aid of magic sandals that let him fly and a magic cap that made him invisible. Perhaps this tale is true and perhaps it isn’t. Maybe the Gorgon you are about to see isn’t Medusa, but one of her sisters. I do not know, because she will not speak.”
Louis stepped toward the panels. Jack grabbed Finney’s arm. “Did you hear, Finney? He said it might not be Medusa.”
“That’s okay. It’s okay if it’s one of her sisters instead.”
Louis put his hand on the farther panel and turned it slowly. There was a brilliant flash as the lights caught in the mirror on the reverse side. When the panel stopped moving, they could see, reflected in the mirror, the woman standing behind the forward panel. The audience hummed appreciatively.
The woman’s reflection glared at them. She wore a dark robe that fell straight from her shoulders to the floor. Her arms were rigid at her sides. On her head, instead of hair, was a writhing mass of foot-long green snakes. They coiled and looped in agitation, as if trying to escape the bondage of the woman’s skull.
Finney and Jack stared, transfixed.
Francine cringed. “Yaaah! Those snakes look real!” She shivered and put her knuckles against her mouth.
“That woman must be nuts, lettin’ ‘em put real snakes on her head,” Rose said.
Louis looked speculatively at the audience, then turned the panel back to its original position. He walked to the front of the stage as the curtain closed. The applause was polite.
Harold looked at his sister. “Well? Medusa was just as phony as Electro, but I’ll admit that was a pretty good touch, using real snakes instead of rubber ones.”
Francine shivered again and made a little noise through her nose.
Louis held up his hands. “We stay with Greek mythology for the next part of the Wonder Show.”
Rose reached over and poked Francine. “Here he comes, Francine. Watch out.”
Francine put her hands over her face to hide her blushes. “Oh, Rose, you’re so wicked!”
“The Greek god Poseidon,” Louis said scholarly, “gave a wonderfully beautiful bull to Minos, the king of Crete, for Minos to sacrifice to him, but Minos could not bear to slay the beautiful animal and, instead, kept it for himself. To punish him for his betrayal, Poseidon caused Minos’ wife, Pasiphae, to fall madly in love with the bull. Do not be shocked, ladies.” Louis smiled comfortingly. “This happened many thousands of years before Christianity. The son of Pasiphae and the bull was a monster, half bull, half human—the Minotaur!”
The curtains swept open with a rattle. There were shocked, disapproving gasps from some in the audience, a rumble of excited comments from others, and titters of embarrassment from some of the girls at the sheer masculinity standing before them.
The Minotaur’s resemblance to the painting on the caravan was only superficial. He was a tall, powerfully muscled man, wearing only a loincloth. He did not have the head of a bull, but had long, bushy hair and horns sprouting from either side of his head. His face was slightly elongated, with only a suggestion of bovine features.
He stepped forward. His muscles rippled like bronze satin. His cloven hoofs clumped loudly on the wooden stage. From the knees down, his legs were shaggy with brown hair, exactly like a bull’s.
Rose looked at Francine and grinned. Francine was consumed by genuine blushes.
Finney and Jack stared. “It’s him,” Finney breathed. “It’s really and truly him.”
“Sumbitch,” Jack muttered.
“King Minos had a miraculous labyrinth built underneath his palace and there placed the Minotaur to live forever. Every year seven youths and seven maidens were sent into the labyrinth. What happened to them, we don’t know, because none ever returned. Mythology tells us the Greek hero Theseus slew the Minotaur in the labyrinth, but there was only the word of Theseus—there were no witnesses.
“As you can see, standing before you, Theseus was prone to exaggeration.” He smiled at his little joke. “You all know of the fabulous strength of the Minotaur.”
A roustabout brought two straight-backed wooden chairs onto the stage. He placed one on either side of the Minotaur, who ignored him, standing placidly, seeming to ignore the whole affair.
“Haverstock’s Traveling Curiosus and Wonder Show will now demonstrate that strength for you. I need two volunteers from the audience…”
Finney and Jack immediately sprang up.
“Thank you, boys.” Louis grinned. “But I need someone with a little more meat on their bones.”
Finney and Jack sat back down, limp with disappointment.
Louis looked over the audience. They shifted this way and that, waiting for someone to volunteer. Louis suddenly pointed at a man about halfway back. “You, sir. What is your name?”
The man looked around him with embarrassment. “Uh… Jakey Dunlap,” he said and grinned.
“What is your occupation, Mr. Dunlap?” Louis asked.
“Oh, I work at the feed store,” Jakey said, warming up to being the center of attention.
“And how much do you weigh, Mr. Dunlap?”
“Oh, about two hundred and forty pounds, give or take.”
“Thank you, sir. Is there anyone in the audience who weighs more?”
“Here!” a voice brayed near the rear of the tent.
“Oh, no,” Sonny moaned dramatically and hunched over with his hands on the back of his head.
“The name’s Baby Sis Redwine and I weigh two hundred and forty-one pounds,” the voice bellowed. Everyone twisted around to look. There was laughter and a scattering of applause.
Louis was momentarily rattled. He had never had a woman volunteer before and he was taken by surprise, but it took only a few seconds for him to regain his rhythm. “This demonstration might be a bit too… strenuous for a lady, ma’am,” he said smoothly and flashed his teeth.
“Oh, hell!” Sis Redwine said. “I can out drink, out shoot, and out cuss any man in this place. And I ain’t scared of no hairy man wearin’ drawers!” The crowd guffawed with delight. Sis was a popular character in Hawley, and Sonny’s first cousin. Some said she wasn’t quite right in the head, but she owned the blacksmith shop and the Sinclair station and didn’t hurt for money. She was thirty-four years old and unmarried, and the pet of the Redwine family, though smiles were sometimes strained when her escapades got too rambunctious.
Louis bowed and smiled. “I bow to your wishes, ma’am. Will you and the gentleman come up on the stage? You will be perfectly safe. There is no danger.”
fakey and Sis left their seats and grinned at the crowd. Sis was shorter than Jakey and almost as wide as she was tall. Her turgid body rolled with soft fat. Jakey had considerable fat on him, but it was hard and underlain with solid muscle. Even so, the Minotaur towered over him, and his chiseled muscular definition and slimmer body made Jakey look bloated.
“Give ‘em what for, Sis!” someone yelled.
Sis and Jakey raised their eyes to the Minotaur critically and unconsciously edged away. The Minotaur looked at them with his big, soft bovine eyes without interest.
“Will you please be seated in the two chairs?” Louis asked politely.
Jakey and Sis looked at each other and grinned, then Sis made a belligerent face at the Minotaur and turned to the audience for approval. The audience responded with the expected laughter. They sat tentatively in the chairs. The Minotaur squatted between them, reached out his massive arms full-length and grasped one leg of each chair. After some shifting and getting into position, he stood slowly, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging. He held the two chairs at arm’s length.
Surprised, Jakey and Sis gasped and grabbed at the chairs for support, then laughed at their own nervousness. The audience laughed with them and applauded mightily. The Minotaur squatted again and lowered the chairs lightly to the stage, then stood up. Perspiration sparkled on his chest and shoulders.
Jakey and Sis grinned in embarrassment and hurried back to their seats. Smiling broadly, Louis held up his hands. “Thank you, Mr. Dunlap and Miss Redwine. If any of you think what you have just seen is a trick, I invite you to try it when you get home tonight—with empty chairs. Is there anyone in the audience who would like a closer look at the Minotaur?”
Finney sprang to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. The Minotaur moved to the front of the stage as the houselights went up. He turned toward Finney, then stepped off the stage and went to him. He bent over so his head was level with Finney’s and looked at him from brown, liquid, kindly eyes. Finney tentatively reached out his hand and touched one of the horns lightly. He ran his finger to the point, then to the base surrounded by hair. He pulled his hand back quickly and grinned at the wonder of it all. The Minotaur smiled and softly stroked Finney’s hair with his large hard hand. Finney’s arm prickled with goosebumps. The Minotaur straightened and moved to the front of the aisle. Finney sat down slowly. Jack grabbed his arm.
“Is there anyone else?” Louis asked.
The Minotaur walked carefully down the aisle, looking around him, smiling slightly. The silent audience watched him nervously.
Harold stood up when the Minotaur reached the bench on which he sat. “Yes, I would,” he said.
“Harold,” Rose hissed.
The Minotaur stopped walking and stepped toward him, leaning over slightly. Harold sat fourth from the aisle. He reached over Rose, Billy, and Francine and grasped one of the horns. He tugged at it with moderate force, then felt around the base, pushing the hair aside to examine the juncture. The Minotaur, apparently accustomed to such liberties, made no objection.
The Minotaur’s leg touched Francine’s knee. She jerked it away with a little gasp. The contact was like an electric shock, adding fuel to the heat already enclosing her body. The Minotaur shifted his gaze from Harold to her, looking into her eyes. He smiled. Francine quickly looked away, fleeing his eyes, pulling her head down.
Then she was looking at the protruding fabric of the Minotaur’s loincloth, only a foot from her face. She could smell the odors of his body and see the fine hairs glistening on his stomach. Her throat constricted and her face began to tingle. She forced her eyes shut, but her eyelids seemed made of glass. Tears squeezed from her compressed eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
