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Thirty
We pack up in record time, wanting to be gone before the sun rises. We can’t change the scorched earth, and we can’t take our dead with us. We bury them under a nearby tree, adding markers and praying for their safe passage to the next life, and then we’re on the road.
Our hearts are heavy, and we’re exhausted from a long night of cleaning up and dressing wounds, but we know we need to keep going. We take turns driving, and this time, we travel farther than before, almost six hours until Diamond is finally happy.
There is no rest for the wicked, however, and once we find a perfect field by a river, we begin the process of setting up. It’s unusually quiet and sad today despite set up normally being a happy affair. Even the kids feel it. They help as much as they can, and seeing them try to cheer everyone up puts a smile on my face, but I can’t forget what happened.
The cirque felt like a safe place for us survivors, but is it really?
I guess only time will tell.
We fall into a routine. It’s been a week since the incident that made us flee, and nothing else has happened. We’re still grieving the losses, and it’s clear the cirque feels it keenly, but life can’t stop, not even for death.
That’s why when the call comes that night, I’m not surprised, though I do notice it’s coming more frequently now. The guys mentioned it only happened every few months a couple of years ago, then almost every month, but now it’s every week.
There’s just so much suffering in the world, evil taking over and preying on the weak. We’re all that stands in its way, and the cirque knows that. It also gives us something to focus on, to take back our power, so as always, we answer.
This time, the call takes us farther outside of the small town we’re near. We drive past the big houses to an old church and cemetery on the hill, overlooking it all. The stone sign proudly declares it was built over a hundred years ago.
As I glance at the graves, I feel misery.
The call takes us through the graves and the ancient headstones, toward the newer ones at the back. We pass the chapel and walk toward a grove of trees and a small crypt. There’s Greek or maybe Latin writing on the stone plaque above the small gray and white building. The door is locked by a chain that seems newly used, since there’s no dust or cobwebs despite the rest of the area being covered.
I nod at it, the call pulsing deep in my soul, letting me know we’re close.
“Spade,” Diamond orders.
Without a word, Spade heads over, grabs the huge bronze lock, and yanks down, snapping it. My eyes widen at the strength it must have taken to perform such a feat, and yes, a little desire courses through me. He winks at me like he knows my thoughts as he grabs the huge door. His arms strain as he opens it. Club helps while Diamond, Heart, and I wait, watching for what will be on the other side.
Whoever it is has to be alive, right?
So then why are they here?
We all cover our mouths at the stench that fills the air as the door finally opens. My eyes strain in the darkness until Heart turns on his lighter and throws it inside. There’s a weak groan, and we share a look. I step in after Diamond, horrified by the sight waiting for us.
There’s a teenage boy, no older than sixteen, curled up at the very back in smelly, thin clothing, shivering from the cold. He blinks against the sudden light.
In his hands, he holds a bent joker card.
His mouth is split, and most of his face is covered in mottled purple and yellow bruises, so days old at least. One of his arms hangs at an odd angle, and he’s obviously tried to secure it to his chest. All of his exposed skin is covered in burns and cuts.
His throat works as he tries to speak, but nothing coming out at first. He forces himself to sit upright, leaning heavily back against the stone wall. “Who are you?” he asks, his voice raw from disuse and pain, as if he’s spent a great amount of time screaming.
How long has he been here?
Days if I had to guess from the stench and state of him.
“You called us,” Diamond says softly, nodding at the card. “Tell us what happened.”
He blinks, glancing down at the card and back at us, confusion in his gaze. I understand the feeling of confusion and desperate hope that comes with knowing you’re about to be saved.
“My . . . The people I thought were my friends left me here to die. They were always mean, bullying me, but I was just happy to have them. I never thought they would go this far.” He coughs, and we wait. “We came here to drink and have fun . . . well, that’s what they told me, but when we got here, they all ganged up on me. They started beating me. I thought they were going to kill me, then they burned me and—” His face fills with shame, his hand dropping to his pants. I realize they are ripped, and my heart aches for the young boy and the innocence he lost. “They took turns with me. I couldn’t stop them. I thought that would be it, but then they threw me in here, laughing the entire time. They said I’d die here and no one would care.” His face lifts, tears slowly tracking down his cheeks. “They were right. No one will care. I’m one out of ten siblings. My family is dirt poor. They won’t even notice I’m gone, or they’ll think I ran away. Nobody cares.”
“We do,” I tell him softly. “We care.”
“We can help you get better and find you a better life, or you can come with us. You can also have the revenge you seek and make them pay for what they did to you. The cost will be the rest of your life. It will be ours. You will join us, Cirque Obscurum. It’s your choice,” Diamond explains. “Either way, you’re safe now.”
They left him in here to starve, alone in the darkness, with nothing but the dead for company.
