Elijah of Buxton (12 page)

It sure was a good thing for Jimmy that I was the only one from school who saw this. Sitting there with purple and black streaks running down his chest and bawling whilst wearing half a woman's leaf dress was the kind of thing that no one wouldn't let him forget about for years. It would have got tied up with his name same way mine's tied up with Mr. Frederick Douglass!

The man with the straw hat and walking stick pointed at Madame Sabbar and said, “Please, give yourselves a hand for saving the purity of this poor white damsel, and let us show our appreciation for the most accurate hunter to ever roam the jungles of Sweden!”

Everybody 'cept for me, the Preacher, and Jimmy Blassingame clapped and hollered and whistled hard as they could.

The Preacher leaned down and yelled, “There's one more person I have to talk to,” and pulled me out of the tent.

Me and the Preacher walked through a patch of woods toward the sounds that were cutting through the night air. When we stepped into the Atlas Clearing it was like we'd fell off a cliff right into a whole 'nother world. What I saw was so shocking that at first everything on me acted like it wanted to draw up and squeeze together, the same way your body does if you're walking 'cross some ice that gives way and dumps you into frozed-up winter water. It was like it was too much coming at you all at once, like it would steal your breathing away from you. But I think that's what the carnival folks were trying to do.

Everything in the Atlas Clearing was set up to get your head started whirling and keep it going that way, and there waren't no hiding from none of it! Every part of my body was trying to grab attention away from the next part. My ears were steady picking up sounds that I hadn't never heard nowhere else. There were hoops and hollers from children and growned folks both, screams that had you thinking someone was looking death right in the throat but that quick turned to laughs that were kind of 'shamed-sounding.

There was a powerful hissing music whistling from a wagon that was throwing fog and songs out of a row of pipes, sounding so hot and hard and pointy that you'd've thought you'd took a knife and were scratching at something deep inside your ear.

But soon's it felt like the
sounds
were gonna cause your head to bust open, your eyes started taking over and noticing separate things out of what at first didn't appear to be nothing but a blur of colour and torches.

There were more of the walking stick–holding, straw hat–wearing white men singing out for you to come see what they had hid up in their tents. They kept calling out the same words over and over, sounding like the choir on Sunday but without no real feeling of happiness in the words.

There were bright red and blue and green and yellow banners strung up 'longside dull brown, high-reaching tents. On the banners were pictures of things that you had to pay a whole nickel to go in and get a look at. Why, terrible as those pictures were, I'd have paid a nickel to
not
go in and see 'em!

There was a painting of a white man that appeared to be half a human and half a alligator, joined up so's you couldn't tell if what you were seeing was the rear half of a alligator swallowing up the top half of a man, or if it was a man that had been born without no legs who had sewed the back half of a lizard onto hisself to see if maybe he could do some walking that way!

There was a picture of a white woman that looked like she had some child's arms and legs poking out of the side of her neck! And another white man that was picking up a full-growned elephant and holding it over his head like he was 'bout to toss it into the next county! Another banner showed a white man that was wide as a barn holding hands with a white woman that waren't much more than a stick with a hank of yellow hair on top. They were standing under a big red heart that said,
BIZARRE LOVE
!!!!

But the drawing that I knowed would keep
me
awake nights and discourage me from wandering 'round in the woods for a good long time was the one of a white man who had to be a conjurer! He didn't have no animal parts stuck on him, nor no parts of other people growing out of him that would invite staring, he had something worst. Something that I tried hard to look away from but waren't no way I could do it.

He had sharp, yellow, jaggedy-looking bolts of lightning shooting di-rect out of his eyes! The bolts were making the normal-looking white man in the picture with him float off his feet and scramble and scratch at the air like he was 'bout to drift up to the clouds! It would cost you a whole quarter of a American dollar to go in the tent and see the conjurer do this! I'd've gave
two
quarters of a dollar not to!

But sure as shooting, this was the other person the Preacher said we were gonna have to go see. He pointed at the drawing of the man with the lightning-bolt eyes and said, “He's the owner of the carnival. I want to get a look at what kind of rigmarole he's got going before I talk to him.”

Another straw hat–wearing, walking stick–waving white man was out front of the tent calling, “Last show of the evening, last show of the year, last time in Canada, last chance of your lifetime to see the fantastic Vaughn-O working his powers of mental prestidigitation!”

The Preacher slapped two whole American quarters on a table and told the white woman sitting there, “Me and my boy want to see the mesmerist.”

I spoke right up and said, “No, sir! You go on in and see him. I'll wait over yon by that tree.”

The Preacher grabbed hold of my collar and pulled me into the tent. This one didn't have no benches in it to sit down on, so we were standing shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of folks from Chatham. Soon's we were inside and worked our way up to the front, I clamped my hand 'cross my eyes.

The Preacher put his mouth near my ear and said, “No-siree-bob. I paid a whole twenty-five cents for you to watch this and that's just what you're going to do.” He jerked my hand away from covering my face.

The first thing I did was look straight up, partly so's I wouldn't have to see the stage, but mostly 'cause if the Preacher was gonna force me to watch and get floated off by lightning coming outta some white man's eyes, I wanted to see if there was something I could latch ahold on to afore I ended up in the clouds.

If I was gonna get lifted away, this was a good place to do it 'cause I couldn't've got no higher than the roof of the tent. There were torches high up on the walls that I'd have to be careful of whilst I was floating, but I figured if I kept a keen eye and kicked at 'em, I could get by without burning nothing 'sides my brogans and maybe the cuffs of my trousers.

I looked all 'cross the top of the tent and my heart started slowing down. It was a true relief to see that there waren't no one from the earlier shows still stuck up there. Maybe that meant the conjuring wore off after while and you'd come a-crashing back down.

If I'd've knowed this was gonna happen I'd have brung me a length of rope and tied it 'round my ankle. That way if I started floating, the Preacher could have pulled me 'long home like a kite. I'd have felt a lot better 'bout waiting for the conjuring to wear off back in Buxton than here 'mongst a bunch of strangers.

Afore I could do any more worrying, a curtain on the stage got whipped aside and a tall, round white man in a long black cape was standing right in front of us. His eyes looked a whole lot more like a dead person's eyes than a live person's. They were blank and blue and they 'peared to be looking square at you, but you could tell they waren't really seeing a thing.

A bevy of laughs and moans and screams came out of everyone that was jammed up in the tent. It ain't being fra-gile when I say that I was 'mongst the screamers.

I grabbed hold of the Preacher's shirtsleeve and mashed my face into it. He just as quick snatched it away and said, “I told you you were going to watch this. You can learn about how a flimflam works.”

I noticed my own arm was being held on to tight and looked to see who'd grabbed me. A little white stranger boy, near 'bout as old as me, was laughing and carrying on something wild.

He swore, “Blang it all! This here's the fourth time I seen him and I still near 'bout jump out my skin when he first come on stage!” He talked like he was from America.

I said, “You saw him four times! Ain't you afeared of getting floated off?”

He laughed and said, “Pshaw! He just a old humbug! He can't float naught nowhere.”

The boy had a head of thick curly red hair and a nose that looked a whole lot like a bird's beak. His eyes were a scary gray and blue colour, 'bout the same as the sky afore a storm. He waren't nothing but a child but the smell of cigar smoke came outta his mouth strong!

I said, “He really caint float nothing away?”

“Naw! Watch what happens. What's your name?”

“I'm Elijah.”

The boy looked like I cursed at him. “
Elijah?
You sure?”

“Course I'm sure.”

“You live down in Buxton?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I'm-a tell you something, Elijah. You'd best not tell no one from Chatham that that's your name.”

“Why not?”

“'Cause there's a rapscallion in Chatham what's already laid claim to that name, and he ain't the kind to be sharing nothing with no one! There was a boy up here whose name was Edward, and Elijah from Chatham didn't want no one else having their name even
start
with the same first letter as his, so he made the boy change his name to Odward! And Odward's own ma and pa calls him that now 'cause they didn't want no trouble with the real Elijah. If I's you I'd find me another name 'cause Elijah from Chatham ain't gonna be real happy 'bout meeting you, particular not with you being a slave boy from Buxton.”

“I waren't never a slave. I was freeborn.”

“Don't matter. Just you be mindful of who you say that name to. Elijah from Chatham ain't to be trifled with. He already killed a full-growed Indian man! And didn't kill him with no knife or gun or sword, killed him with one hand! His left one! And he ain't but twelve years old!”

Those words hadn't had no chance to sink in good when the conjurer on stage came to life. He flunged his arms to the sides and showed that under his black cape he was wearing a something blue that looked a powerful lot like a dress with all sorts of shiny, sparkling, silvered stars and crescent moons. Why, it was pasted with as many moons as stars! And that don't make no sense, that don't make no sense atall.

All the folks that were screaming and laughing a minute ago set up a mess of oohs and aahs that would have you believing they were seeing the real heavens 'stead of a dress with sham stars and way too many moons stuck all over it.

The little white boy dugged his elbow into my ribs and said, “Keep a watch on his eyes!”

The most amazing thing happened! The conjurer's eyes rolled back in his head and their place was took right away by
another
set of eyes! Only difference twixt 'em was that these two eyes were brown, and whilst the other ones seemed staring and empty, these eyes were looking dead at you! And worst, waren't no doubt that
they were seeing you
!

I felt my legs commence shaking and grabbed ahold of the white boy so's I wouldn't fall.

He said, “Them first eyes is painted on his lids, I was out back smoking a see-gar with him and seent it myself. He ain't real atall!”

The conjurer was slow as anything peering hard at everyone in the crowd. When his eyes hit 'em, some folks screamed, some folks laughed, some folks cried, and some folks 'peared to be dumbstruck. I ain't sure which group I was 'mongst 'cause the fearing in me was too strong.

The white boy said, “Watch this. I'm-a have me some fun here!”

When the man's eyes struck him the boy stood bolt upright and his face frozed stiff as a stone! I quick unloosed his arm so's the conjurization wouldn't have the chance to jump off of him and onto me.

The man pointed spot-on at the boy and called out, “You!”

The boy's eyes near bucked right out of his head!

The conjurer-man's finger commenced crooking and bending in a way that got more screams and confusion to rise up from the crowd.

The boy looked at me, his face unfrozed for a second, and one of his gray eyes winked. Then quick as anything his face frozed up again, looking all stupid-fied, and he started pushing his way through people and heading to the steps on the side of the stage. You'd've thought the conjurer's finger was a magnet and the boy was made outta iron filings! When folks saw the spell he was under they stepped aside like he was toting a bucket that was overflowing with the plague!

He got up on the stage and the conjurer waved his cape over the boy's head twice. He said, “Boy! Do you know me?”

The boy said, “No, sir, you's a perfect stranger.” “Then we've never spoken?”