Sideshow

Chapter One

         Hailey sat in the passenger seat of her stepdad’s Toyota pickup truck, with the stick end of a grape sucker poking out of her mouth. Her stepdad, John, had gotten it for her a little while ago, when he stopped to get his cigarettes at a 7-11 convenience store, though at nine she felt a little past that phase of childhood. She had sat in the hot truck with Charlie, her huge, skinny, russet colored mongrel dog crammed into the small extended cab behind the seats, panting in her ear. When John came out, he tossed the sucker onto her lap, saying, “Here, practice on this.”

         Slowly, she unwrapped the unexpected treat, now tainted with his sleaziness. She placed it reluctantly in her mouth, wadded up the wrapper and stuck it in her shorts pocket, surreptitiously tugging the hems of her shorts down as she did.

         “Quit that squirming” he yelled suddenly, startling her so that her sucker popped out of her mouth. Quickly, she picked it up from where it had landed in her lap and stuck it back in her mouth, wiping the sticky residue from her already grubby leg. She balled up her fist and turned her head away, allowing her long brown hair to cover half of her face and her anxious blue eyes-eyes John referred to as her “baby blues”.  She knew better than to throw it out the window, or say she didn’t want it. Such rebellion was met with swift punishment and she dared not risk John’s anger with Charlie trapped in the small truck with them.

         Charlie growled very softly in her ear, a low deep rumbling in his massive chest. She used their connection to warn him; if John heard the sound, he’d shoot Charlie. He had said as much the first time they were alone and out of her mother’s ear shot. “Girl, if that damned dog so much as looks at me funny with those goddamned yellow eyes I will put a bullet right between them.”

         From that moment, she knew she was in a bad situation and kept Charlie as far from John as she could. Using their special connection, that mind to mind communication they shared since she found the dog as a small wriggling brown puppy, she told Charlie to leave John alone and stay out of his way. The big dog kept his strength and anger in check as much as he could; when he could not, when John was beating Hailey or worse, he ran far and fast until she opened the mind link and begged him to come back. “I need you Charlie,” she’d say, and even her mental voice sounded sick with grief and pain during those times. As a younger child, Hailey figured everyone around her could hear the dog but as she grew older, she realized what they shared was unusual and kept it a secret. Times such as now made their uniqueness especially useful.

         The first time Hailey heard the dog speak in her mind, she was six years old, and her mom had just met John. After a particularly ugly scolding from her soon-to-be stepfather, Hailey fled the turmoil of the house and sought refuge in the barns and outbuildings of their Oregon country home. Then a puppy, Charlie waddled after her as fast as his fat little legs could carry him. She picked him up and cuddled him closely, her tears wetting his russet, baby soft fur. A sweet, gentle voice had floated through her head, almost as though she were talking to herself but not in any internal voice she recognized. “I love you, Hailey,” the angelic voice had said that day. After a moment of hesitation, she held the puppy up at eye level, and they regarded each other for long moments. Charlie had broken the spell by wriggling forward and licking her tears from her cheeks, chanting “I love you” over and over in her head, until she began laughing and giggling in delight, astonished at his ability, not knowing it was her own ability that made his words clear to her. From that moment forward, they’d called their special connection “mind-speak” and Hailey felt less alone than at any time in her life.

         Today, trapped in the Toyota with John, they were on an important mission, according to him. “Bring that ugly fucking dog of yours too, missy,” he’d said. She knew better than to question why, but told Charlie to be extra alert. If there was any sign of danger to him, he should run and try to get some help. Of course, there was no going to her mom for help; she thought John Mitchell was a wonderful man. “Isn’t John a wonderful stepfather Hailey? He just loves you so much honey,” her mother, Catherine, had said to her on more than one occasion. Yeah, Hailey thought every time, he sure does just love me so much.

         They rattled down the hot macadam in silence, suffering in the August sun with the stench of John’s endless cigarettes wafting back and forth into the truck cab. Hailey kept staring out the window, hoping their journey would end soon and she would survive whatever was coming. After about an hour of driving on the freeway, John turned suddenly onto the freeway exit to what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. Hailey tensed, but said nothing. Charlie tensed, but was likewise silent. John, however, began to whistle. He was whistling the theme to “Old Yeller”, Hailey realized, and nauseous fear rippled through her like an oily tide.

         As John turned the battered truck onto a dirt lane, Hailey trembled, her entire body taught as a live wire. “Get ready,” she whispered in her head to Charlie. He acknowledged her instructions, telling her not worry, everything was going to be fine. But in her nine year old heart of hearts, Hailey felt a sinking certainty that nothing was ever going to be fine again. Whatever was going to happen to them in the moments ahead would change everything forever. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck rose and the colors of the bright day intensified.

         Still whistling, John drove on, his air of self-satisfaction and happiness filling the pickup’s cab. Seemingly without a care in the world he navigated the little pickup through potholes the size of wading pools. Hailey and Charlie were bounced all around the truck and tried hard to wedge themselves into less painful corners, trying unsuccessfully to anticipate each rough jolt. “Whoooo-eee! We’re having fun now aren’t we sugar!” John hollered, ear splitting in the small space. He was grinning like a maniac, enjoying their discomfort. The rough ride didn’t seem to bother him; he just clung to the wheel and drove faster. Desperately, Hailey and Charlie wished the ride would end so they could face whatever came next. Anything to keep from rattling their bones in the tin can environment of the small yellow truck cab any longer.

         To each side of them as they traveled down the dirt lane, wide open fields rolled away as far as the eye could see. Up ahead, a cluster of oak trees stood in solitary watchfulness, the only discernible landmark for miles. There, Hailey knew, lie the fates of her and her companion. She emptied her mind of thought and tried to concentrate solely on pushing air in and out of her lungs in measured cadence.

         Finally the pickup bumped to a stop several yards from the cluster of oak trees. John turned the key and switched off the engine, silencing the rumble of the motor. In the sudden quiet, the air seemed to still. As if they were in a bottle, corked and silent, hushed with anticipation of pain and violence.

         John turned to Hailey. “Get out,” he said in a flat voice.

         She unclenched her fists and slowly reached for the door handle.

         “I said OUT!”

         She scrambled to open the door, while Charlie gave a nearly imperceptible rumble deep in his chest.

         John stared down the big dog. “Stay here, flea bag.” He got out of the truck and slammed the door shut. Hailey closed her door softly, trying to clear her mind.

         John closed the distance from his side of the truck to Hailey’s and said, “Where’s your sucker I gave you?”

         In the harrowing ride to the middle of nowhere, her sucker had fallen out of her mouth and now lay among the debris on the truck’s cab floor. John yanked her door open violently, and Hailey cautioned Charlie to just sit tight and do nothing to draw John’s attention to himself. He protested loudly in her mind, swearing he could end this now if only she would unleash his strength.

         She silently reinforced her wishes, saying, “No Charlie, he’ll kill you and then what will happen to me? I’d die without you!” Charlie backed down, sitting on his haunches the best he could in the cramped pickup cab.

         John reached in and plucked the sticky treat off the floor of the truck, not sparing a glance for the big dog hunkered in the back. His attention was elsewhere.

         “Well, well!” he exclaimed in a sweet voice. “Here’s Hailey’s sucker. It’s a little dirty now honey, but there’s a creek yonder under them trees you could wash it off in,” he said with a smile that sent chills down Hailey’s spine.

         “Why don’t you go on down there and wash it off? Wouldn’t want to waste a perfectly good sucker. I can’t afford to get you another one, sweetheart.”

         She took the sucker from his hand and turned toward the grove of trees. A swat on her rear got her going a little faster and John walked slowly behind her in the darkening day.

         They reached the stand of trees and sure enough, there was a little creek running through the small glen. Hailey glanced back, unable now to see the truck but able to feel Charlie’s presence in their mind connection. He didn’t need to hear what was going to happen next, and he was trapped in the truck, unable to run from his anger or her torment and she was saddened that she could not spare him from sharing this torment with her.

         Hailey reached the small trickle of water and knelt down to wash her sucker off. John came up behind her and tore it from her hand, throwing it off into the distance.

         “Aw ain’t that a shame, Hailey darlin’. You lost your sucker again! I got something to take your mind off of it though. Turn around,” he ordered.

         Hailey did as she was told.  John had his pants unzipped and his hand reaching inside. Her mind screamed and in their mind-speak, Charlie screamed with her.

         “Take it out,” John said to his nine year old stepdaughter, his voice emotionless. His excitement was betrayed by his body as she reached to comply, revulsion washing through every fiber of her being. This was an old dance for them now; there was no escaping the finality of what was to happen to her next. She had tried to avert this trauma in the past with tears, which he had seemed to relish. She had tried anger, which earned her a hard slap in the face, and then another, leaving her dazed while he wrapped his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer, hurting her and humiliating her more. Now she tried for disinterest, at least on the outside, while inside she hurt and wept and raged.

         Her only solace was that, so far, his touching of her had not gone farther than this horror. Once, about a year ago, she’d been so bitter with the situation that she’d lashed out at her mother about washing the dishes, angry that her mother was so blind she could not see what horrors her daughter was suffering. Her mom was appalled that Hailey had spoken to her in such a manner, and cried that her daughter was mean and cruel to her in spite of everything she did for her. John had said, “Now Cathy, don’t get all upset about this. Kids is kids, you go on and wash your face up and I’ll have a little talk with Hailey about her behavior.” Catherine sniffled and complied with his wishes, while John grabbed Hailey by the upper arm and escorted her out to the barn. She felt more than heard Charlie trot out of the house behind them, following them in the dark. Once there, he said in his cold voice “Drop your pants and grab your ankles,” which brought terror leaping to the surface. “Charlie, RUN!” she screamed in her head, knowing this was the moment when he needed to be gone most. Charlie ran.

         She had unbuttoned her pants with numb fingers and let them fall to her ankles, embarrassed that she had no underwear since they’d all fallen apart and her mother kept forgetting to buy her new ones. She closed her eyes and prayed it would be over soon, reached down, and grabbed her ankles as instructed. John came up close behind her, and his breathing was hoarse in the still evening air of the barn. His bare hand smacked her naked bottom and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. He hit her again, and again, over and over. Blood sang in her ears until she could not keep back her cries and tears spilled over her cheeks. When he was done, he ran his hand over the red marks he had left on her tender skin, caressing her, his fingers brushing her most private place. She squeezed her legs together as tight as she could, praying he would stop now, just stop.

         His perversion was interrupted by the lowing of cows in the field, agitated by some unseen predator or threat. John swore under his breath and in his normal voice said, “Get on in the house and apologize to your mother,” and ran off to check the few cows they kept on the farm, time to bring them in for the night anyway. Hailey had pulled up her pants quickly and ran into the house, closing her bedroom door softly and shaking all over. “Charlie, come back!” she cried out in mind-speak, and she heard him answer “On my way!”

         Here and now, there were no cows to break the silence; no animal sounds at all, just the trickling song of the creek.

         When she had finished John lit up another cigarette and pushed her roughly away. Smoke curled up around his face as he studied her.

         Hailey kept her face averted, eyes on the ground.

         “That’s what I like. People and animals should pull their weight.”  Tucking his cigarette into the corner of his mouth, he buttoned his pants and reached down to his left boot. He retrieved a small caliber pistol, a “lady’s gun”, and checked the rounds with an air of great display.

         “That damn flea bitten dog of yours though. I’m sorry to say honey, but he don’t do shit for our farm.” Gun in hand, he strolled toward the pickup where Charlie was trapped.

         Hailey scrambled after her stepfather and tugged on his free arm, begging, “Please John don’t hurt Charlie, I’ll do anything you want, please!”

         “You’ll do any damn thing I want anyway!” he snarled, and backhanded her across the mouth. Tasting blood, Hailey ran to the truck ahead of him, trying desperately to wrench the driver’s door open. “Charlie, get out of the truck!” she screamed in her head.

         The big dog was raging inside the cab, wanting nothing more than to rip John to pieces. The whole vehicle rocked on its wheels with the weight of the dog’s anger.

         John was still a few yards from the truck when he took a shooter’s stance and aimed his weapon at the windshield. The shot sounded like the crack of a bullwhip and in front of Hailey’s eyes a small round bullet hole appeared in the windshield just inches from Charlie’s head as he let forth volleys of vicious, ugly, snarling barks. The sound was deafening inside of the truck cab, and Charlie could only hear his own wrath aimed at John. He saw the bullet pass by him and knew that he now had a way out of the cab. He launched his entire weight at the windshield of the small truck and burst through it in a shower of gummy safety glass.

         “NOOOOOO!!!” Hailey screamed out loud and in her mind, knowing John was far enough away to shoot Charlie before the dog reached him. John fired again, and Hailey saw Charlie wince.  She wept tears of frustration and grief, knowing Charlie had been shot. But still he kept going, intent on killing his friend’s tormenter.

         An unnatural silence had engulfed the unfolding tableau. It was broken by a sudden thrumming sound that seemed to emanate from the earth beneath their feet and the air surrounding them. It unfolded around them and extended around and up, shaking Hailey’s bones and rattling her teeth. Charlie stopped his forward momentum with a lurch and cowered to the ground while John stared wildly into the fields around them, cursing. A thick black cloud formed in midair a short distance from where they hunched, low to the ground, and a funnel stretched from the strange cloud mass toward them.

         As the strange and unnatural storm approached, it increased in size and intensity. The humming became deafening, twisting inside her, and Hailey suddenly saw what the enormous darkness was made of. She threw herself flat on the ground while millions of insects seethed and writhed in the tornado-like mass, and the sharp end of the funnel touched down right on top of John. He screamed hoarsely, wordlessly, as the multitudes of sharp stings and teeth touched his head and in seconds, the blink of an eye, he was covered in them. The blob of human and insect writhed and danced in place, John screaming and trying vainly to slap them from his body. He appeared like a man on fire, alit with flames of black death. Hailey crawled a few feet over to where Charlie lay on the grass, and they cowered together, watching the wriggling mass of insects devour John and praying they were not next.

         Hailey felt Charlie’s wordless questioning in her mind, in awe despite his fear. She felt the same; in the back of her mind she screamed savage triumph that he was dying in such a horrible manner. She also heard in her inner mind, where she and Charlie usually communicated silently, a low thrum of someone or something else. There were no discernible words she could identify but a feeling, an emotion, rather than words. If she were able to repeat it, to translate, it would be something like “destroy, destroy, destroy” chanted over and over. She asked Charlie, “Do you hear that? That chanting?” but the big dog did not answer her. She looked at him and saw he was still watching the death of her stepfather, rapt by the vision in front of him.

         John had collapsed to the ground, still covered in insects, only twitching now and then. He’d stopped screaming. Now the only sound Hailey could hear was the clicking and whirring of the insects themselves. The bees suddenly rose in a cloud of yellow and black splendor and flew up in their funnel shaped formation before dispersing to unknown parts.

         The chanting in her head became fainter, and changed tone. It read something more like “hungry” now. In front of her, beetles and flies still covered John and began the process of breaking down his body for food. In less than a quarter of an hour, all that remained of her stepfather was a pile of bones, stripped cleanly of flesh. The insects had disappeared to parts unknown as rapidly as they had appeared, and the chanting in Hailey’s inner mind had gone as suddenly as the insects had. John’s gun lay nearby, a black blur on the green field of grass, abandoned by the death of its master. Hailey left it there.

         Charlie was lying on his side, and his eyes were closed but Hailey could feel him with her special connection. She went to him, and lay on her side in the grass next to his warmth. The light and sound had seeped back in to the world, colors preternaturally bright with the promise of a new future of her own choosing.

         “Charlie?”

         “I’m ok, I’m ok,” he said back, instantly. “Just grazed me and stung like a big bee but I’m fine really.”

         “What do we do now?” she asked. “I can’t drive John’s truck and you don’t have any thumbs. How will we get home?” She decided to avoid what had happened with the bugs for now. It was too much for her exhausted and terrified mind to wrap itself around.

         Charlie opened the eye closest to her and regarded her as solemnly as any dog regarded a master who was being excessively dense. “Hailey, we can never go back. We have to find a new path, now.”

         “What about my mother!?” 

         “She never did a thing to save you, Hailey,” Charlie’s mind-speak was gentle but with a sharp edge of bitterness. The one adult who could have helped did nothing while he, her loyal companion, was rendered helpless by her wish to protect him. It had nearly made him insane, all these years, watching and waiting for Catherine’s intervention…

         “She didn’t know, Charlie, I couldn’t tell her because it would have broken her heart,” Hailey said softly, tears slipping down her dirty cheeks unnoticed.

         Charlie opened the other eye and sat up. He looked at her intently, un-doglike.  “You have to stop saving everyone but yourself.”

         “What should we do then? Where should we go?” Hailey changed the subject.  She knew he was right about her mother but it was not an easy admission even to herself.

         “First, let’s check the truck. I smelled food in the glove compartment. Maybe there will be money there too. Then we will make a plan; we have to leave quickly before the search begins,” Charlie said and heaved himself unsteadily to his four legs. There was a large, angry weal down his left side from his shoulder to his hindquarters but he appeared to be intact otherwise. Hailey protested again that he allow her to wash his wound in the creek, at least, but Charlie stoically refused. Aside from being frightened, abused, and mystified by what had befallen them, Hailey was untouched.

         The two companions trekked back to John’s homely yellow pickup and wrenched open the passenger door. Hailey brushed broken glass from the seats, and rummaged around in the glove box, where she found two candy bars and a package of peanuts. She stuffed them in her shorts pockets, hoping they would not melt before they could eat them. A real find under the driver’s seat: John’s wallet; they took out the three tens and four ones and left the rest behind. Pointing their feet toward the setting sun, Hailey trusted Charlie to sniff out civilization where they might blend in or hide. Stiffly, favoring his injured side, Charlie led his mistress away from the remains of the man who had terrorized her these last few years of her young life, and set his nose to search for a better life for them both.