Blood Moon Big Top Read online

  BLOOD MOON BIG TOP

  Toneye Eyenot

  Edited by JEA Staff

  Cover Art by: Stephen Cooney

  http://jellingtonashton.com/

  Copyright.

  Toneye Eyenot

  ©2016 Toneye Eyenot

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover and photos, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. All rights reserved.

  Any resemblance to persons, places living, dead, or undead is purely coincidental.

  This is a work of fiction

  1.

  His name was Marbles - Marbles the Clown. He picked up the job whilst drifting; something he had been doing for years now, and was given the name by Tarlo the lion tamer. He quite liked it. It was much better than his real name, Kendrick. He had always hated that name, and cursed his parents incessantly for their terrible taste in such things. As Marbles, also, he was able to become someone else for a spell each night, freeing himself temporarily from all of his woes and inhibitions. The weekend matinees especially, were always a welcome bonus. Marbles had the wanderlust. He could never stay in one place for more than a week, before his feet would take command of his will. Being a man of few words, Marbles couldn’t stand the company of people. Short doses were all he could bear, so Marbles kept as much to himself as possible, and moved on if anybody tried to get close to him. So, when he came across this travelling circus, Marbles had found the perfect employment. For a brief period each night, Kendrick would become Marbles; and then march, stomp, run, twirl and flip his way into the big top, to the uproarious cheers and laughter from a different crowd each night. The rest of the time, he would either spend in his trailer, or taking walks in search of quiet and solitude. He wasn’t an experienced clown, but when Kendrick put on the costume and painted his face, something would come over him. The transformation would be seamless and absolute. Kendrick the Drifter became Marbles the Clown.

  It was in the early hours of Sunday morning when Marbles awoke. It was still dark outside, but he could see that dawn was not too far off. He lay there for a few minutes, deciding whether to get up, or try and catch a bit more sleep, before the noise and activity began outside.

  “Fuck it. I’m awake,” he said aloud to himself, and threw his legs off the bed. Marbles sat there for another few minutes, rubbing his eyes and trying to rouse himself, before standing and fumbling through the gloom for the light switch. He threw on the same clothes he’d worn yesterday, and went to make a coffee. He was all out, and he remembered with a disgruntled sigh, that he meant to go into town for some yesterday, but kept putting it off until he had forgotten all about it. At this point, the light outside was becoming more prominent, and Marbles decided to take a pre-dawn stroll to stave off his caffeine cravings. The air was fresh and crisp as he stepped from his trailer. Morning mist hung heavily, and through it, he could still see the pale illumination cast by the Moon. Last night, the sky had been crystal clear, with an immense Full Moon lighting up the circus grounds. The trees of the woods nearby, casting long shadows across the tents.

  Marbles decided to take a wander through the woods. It was becoming light enough to see clearly into the trees. There were still a couple of hours before stores open, and he would be able to get his precious coffee. He figured the walk would do him good though. As he entered into the trees, a shiver ran through him. Birds were waking up with a multitude of voices, and the faint cracking of branches reached his ears. Marbles shrugged it off as the stirrings of forest animals and continued his stroll. This was the life. No people, just the sweet sounds of nature and the company of trees. Marbles wandered on through the woods as dawn threatened to break.

  He saw a small form, several feet ahead on the ground. As he cautiously got nearer, he realised it was a little boy, curled up in a mass of fallen leaves. The child was completely naked and filthy. His nails were thick, curled over and blackened. His hair, long and matted, covered his face as he slept. Marbles stooped to give his shoulder a shake, and the boy awoke with a start, thrashing and kicking, while surprised snarls and growls burst from his mouth. Marbles put a hand back on the boy’s shoulder and tried to calm him. He was completely feral, and it was clear from the onset the boy didn’t understand a word Marbles was saying. He wondered how long the child had been living in these woods. He couldn’t have been any older than five or six. Marbles took the boy’s hand and stood him up. He continued to thrash and struggle, so Marbles grabbed his other hand and squatted in front of him. He was alarmed by the wild look in the boy’s eyes. There seemed to be no sign of human in them at all; just the frightened and frantic expression of a cornered animal. Marbles spoke no more to the child, only with his eyes. He managed his most reassuring gaze, and loosened his grip on the boy’s hands without letting go completely.

  Marbles decided he couldn’t leave the child here. It was clear that he had been in these woods for a long time, perhaps even his entire short life, but Marbles just didn’t feel right abandoning him. He wondered if the kid had parents, brothers or sisters. It was by mere chance that he had stumbled across him, and surmised, if his family had lost their son, they were never going to find him here. Perhaps they would have a better chance of being reunited if he were to be taken on the road with the circus. Maybe the family still lived close by. As he gazed gently into the feral child’s eyes, the boy slowly relaxed by degrees until the struggling ceased. Marbles gave the boy a warm smile and, releasing his right hand, stood to lead him back to the circus.

  The instant he turned away, Marbles felt a small hand grip his forearm, and sharp teeth tear into his wrist. He let the boy’s hand go, pulling away with a pained yell, and the feral child ran off, growling and snarling into the thick scrub. Marbles watched in shock as the boy vanished, then slowly brought his gaze to his wrist. The wound was severe. Marbles was sure the little beast had run off with a decent chunk of flesh in his mouth.

  “Shit” he said, and pulled a brightly coloured handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it tight around his wrist and hand. He considered pursuing the child, but then thought better of it. Marbles had to get this wound cleaned and fixed up. Gods only know what bacteria and disease the child carried with him. He would probably need a tetanus shot, and hopefully not rabies shots to boot. The sullen drifter clown had no inkling of what was to come. Marbles turned and started back to his trailer. He planned to get some antiseptic on the wound, and a clean bandage, before making his way to the hospital. And coffee… “Damn! I would kill for a coffee right now,” he thought as he hurried back to his trailer. His wrist was throbbing, the pain shooting up his arm like lightning strikes through his veins.

  Reaching the trailer, the pain, now in his entire arm, had become unbearable. His heart worked in a confused panic, pumping blood furiously to his wound in a vain attempt to combat this intrusion into his system. Marbles fumbled with the handle, trying to get his door open. His hand felt numb, like it belonged to somebody else. All his attention had been demanded by the voracious throbbing in his afflicted arm, leaving the rest of his body feeling ‘not there’. His knees weakened and his head began to spin. Marbles, desperate to get inside his trailer before being seen by anyone, made a purposeful grab for the door handle, almost ripping the door from its hinges. He tried to lift his foot to the step, but only succeeded in tripping headlong through the open door, landing face down inside his trailer. The last thing Marbles remembered before passing
out, was dragging himself around on the floor and pulling the door closed.

  2.

  Sundays were always quiet, after the excitement and hard work of Saturdays. Two performances in the one day warranted a day of rest to follow, and it was not uncommon for none to see neither hide nor hair of their reclusive clown on Sundays. Nobody came knocking, as Marbles slept through the day on the floor of his trailer. Fitful dreams befell him, while the pathogen made its way voraciously through his system, twisting his body in unconscious spasms of pain. As the day drew to a close and night took its place, Marbles slept on.

  Seven AM: The knock rattled his door and reverberated through the trailer, making Marbles jump. He was already up and sitting on the end of his bed, but had no recollection of getting there, or what he was doing just before the knock on the door, let alone what had happened once he’d made it back to his trailer a day earlier.

  “Marbles? Everything OK in there?” The bewildered clown recognised the voice of Giuseppe the strong man, whom everyone called Gus.

  “Fine, Gus. Just waking up now. It looks like I overslept.”

  “Well, when you’re all bright eyed and bushy tailed, Benito and Clarence could use some help with the animals. They have been unsettled since early, night before last.”

  Marbles looked towards the door, as if he expected Gus to see the questioning expression on his face. “OK,” he replied after a few hazy moments. “Just let me freshen up and I will be right out.” A moment later, he called out again, “Hey, Gus!”

  His door opened, and the strong man entered just inside the trailer. “Yes?”

  “Do you have any coffee? I could kill for some coffee.”

  Gus squinted as he peered over at the lethargic looking clown. “You look like shit, my friend! Where did you go last night? Hit some bars, did we? Entertained some whores?” Giuseppe laughed at his own speculations, but Marbles didn’t respond. “Not a problem, Marbles. I have some of the finest Italian coffee this side of everywhere! One cup and you will feel like a new man! You get yourself together and meet me by the Big Top. I will have your coffee ready for you.”

  “Gus, thank you. You are a life saver.”

  The strong man gave a nod and a grin, then closed the door and left Marbles to the laborious task of beginning the day. He felt heavy and vague. The pain in his arm was all but gone, and Marbles realised he hadn’t cleaned or dressed the wound. He unravelled the handkerchief and looked at his hand in disbelief. There was only a slight redness where the bite had occurred. There was no sign of what Marbles could’ve swore was an open, bleeding mess of savaged flesh. Only redness, and the hair around the area a darker shade than elsewhere.

  “What the hell happened yesterday?” the clown mused. “Did I hallucinate the whole thing? No, I couldn’t have. That boy was real. That BITE was real! I’ve been sleeping for the last twenty-four hours! What the hell?” Marbles forced himself upright and went to the wash basin to splash water on his face. “Gus was right.” Marbles stared at his haggard features in the grubby mirror. He did look like shit. He looked like a corpse warmed up. His back ached terribly, and it felt like he’d been punched repeatedly all about his ribs. He entertained the thought that perhaps he was suffering caffeine withdrawals. He couldn’t remember the last time he had to go without. He’d never had withdrawals from coffee, because he always had a steady supply at hand. Maybe that’s all he needed. A shot of Giuseppe’s magical brew, to get him firing on all cylinders once again.

  Opening the door to his trailer, Marbles was blinded by the intensity of the daylight. Tears streamed down his face, and he quickly retreated inside and slammed the door shut.

  “Man! That was extreme!” Marbles wiped the tears as he reached for his sunglasses on the bench. “OK. Let’s try this again,” he said, to no one in particular. He opened the door a little more cautiously this time, and slowly stepped out into the punishing daylight. Still having to squint behind the protection of the shades, Marbles could see Giuseppe over by the Big Top. With his right arm across his mid-section, nursing his ribs, Marbles made his way gingerly over to Gus.

  “You really do look bad, Kendrick. Maybe you should get a ride into town and see a doctor.”

  “Marbles, Gus. Call me Marbles.”

  “Right. Marbles. Sorry.” the strong man replied. “Here, get this into ya. Giuseppe’s special blend will pick you up.” He added with a warm smile.

  “Thank you, Gus,” said Marbles, and gratefully took the small cup Gus held out to him. He looked into the cup at the dark, syrupy liquid and took in the aroma. He stifled a gag as the scent engulfed his nostrils. A pungent, bitter smell, but it didn’t resemble coffee at all.

  “Marbles? Are you OK?”

  “Sure, Gus. At least, I think so. The last twenty-four hours have been a bit of a blur. I do feel a little out of sorts.” Marbles was a very private man, and relaying to his colleague the current state of his health was hard enough. He didn’t tell Gus that he had been sleeping the whole time. Nor did he tell him why. Who would believe him anyway? The red mark on his hand had faded again, considerably so. To anybody who took notice, Marbles looked more like he was tending a hangover, or perhaps a bad cold or flu.

  “Cheers, Gus,” he said, and downed the coffee in one gulp. As the tasteless liquid travelled down his throat to his empty stomach, Marbles heaved violently. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with wet, mushy paper. The horrid feeling filled his throat, and rumbled in his guts. He looked up at Gus with a dismayed expression, his eyes watering profusely behind the dark glasses.

  “What the…” he couldn’t finish his sentence. It hurt to speak.

  “You don’t like?” Gus asked. He looked at the clown with concern, tinged with a little indignation at Marbles’ reaction to his brew.

  “I – don’t feel – well.” Marbles managed to say in a staggered voice, and then collapsed in a heap on the ground.

  3.

  Marbles awoke in a hospital bed, hooked up to some annoying machine that let out an intermittent beep, which thundered inside his skull relentlessly. He felt weak and drained, as if he had been robbed of his life’s blood. Marbles tried to sit up, but he just didn’t have the energy, so he stopped his struggle, lay back, and tried to block out the infernal beep of the machine. He heard voices outside the room, and pricked his ears when he heard the word ‘circus’. He couldn’t make out the rest, but it didn’t matter. A moment later, the door opened, and in walked two doctors and a very young male nurse, who looked to be still in his teens.

  “Kendrick, is it?” asked one doctor.

  “Marbles. My name is Marbles.”

  “Ok… Marbles. We have a bit of a perplexing situation here. Can you describe to us what happened to you? How long have you been like this?”

  “Like what?” Marbles retorted. “What do you mean, like this? How long have I been out?”

  “Sir, that’s not what he meant,” the other doctor chimed in. “Can you tell us what caused you to collapse yesterday? We have run some tests, and the results have us baffled. Your white blood cells have an unusual anomaly. DNA results show something – not human – attaching themselves to your cells. We are at a loss.”

  “Yesterday?” was the only response they got. Marbles fell deep into thought. Apart from his brief walk from the trailer to the Big Top, Marbles had spent an entire two days sleeping. He felt like he could easily sleep another two days straight as well. He closed his eyes, and a vision formed of the feral boy he found in the woods. Eyes wide in surprise, or fright, blood staining his mouth and chin, crouched at the ready. Marbles opened his eyes again, to see the doctors and nurse waiting intently for his story. He wasn’t going to oblige them with one though.

  “I have to get out of here,” he said, and again tried to sit up.

  “Marbles, we still have some more tests we’d like to run. You are extremely depleted by whatever it is that ails you. We think it would be best to keep you here overnight, to be safe. We still don’t know
what we’re dealing with here, and we can’t release you until we get a clearer picture. This is Jonathan. He will be looking after you. Anything you need, just buzz and he’ll come. Isn’t that right, lad?”

  “Yes indeed, Doctor,” the young nurse replied. “Sir, if there’s anything you need, I am at your call.”

  “Marbles, damnit. The name’s Marbles,” snapped the clown.

  “My apologies,” Jonathan said, and left the room, red faced.

  “One of us will be in to check on you a bit later. In the meantime, try and get some rest.” With that, the two doctors exited the room, leaving Marbles to contemplate his surroundings.

  “Rest. Pffft,” he mumbled angrily to himself. That’s all he’d been doing for two days, and that wasn’t helping at all. Marbles couldn’t help but worry though. What was really happening to him? He considered telling his tale of the feral kid in the woods, but knew the doctors would just deem him mad. Maybe best to keep that to himself. “What will be, will be,” Marbles conceded, and drifted back into slumber.

  He hadn’t eaten a bite since his encounter in the woods. The doctors had prescribed ‘nil by mouth’, and had him fed through an intravenous drip, until they could solve this perplexing mystery. It was nothing any of them had seen before, and wasn’t to be found in any medical journals. Their peculiar patient was becoming the talk of the entire hospital staff, to the point where Marbles literally felt his ears burning. The sensation tore him from sleep, into the semi-darkened room, and then it began to spread, from several points at once. The fire poured in through his ear canals, and engulfed the inside of his skull in flames. Where the IV imposed on the vein, liquid fire coursed through his arm. What felt like several little fire devils, whirling and cavorting in his gut, caused Marbles to retch. Nothing came out but the foul reek of sulphur.