In August of 1942, a fire swept through the menagerie tent of the Ringling Brothers circus. While 5,000 spectators looked on, police gunned down at least 26 animals running rampant, including elephants and giraffes. Circus workers killed one dying elephant themselves with eight rounds in its head. Eight camels died while ten were rescued, though with most of their fur burned off. One ostrich escaped the tent with feathers aflame and was rescued by its trainers. Gargantua, the circus's famous gorilla, also survived. Over 100 animals perished.

As her scream faded, Lana slowly realized that no one else was screaming, or even frightened. They weren't seeing what she was seeing. They were staring at her. Her mouth remained open, but she didn't bother screaming again. 

She looked around and then back at the man, whose gashed face smiled at her with a bemused expression. It was rude, she knew it was rude, but she couldn't stop staring. Blood dripped from his mouth, from his lower lip that was split in two, making his smile that much more insane. Then he blinked, and her gorge rose, because while one eyes was fine, the other eyeball dangled against his cheek from a length of gore, and his eyelid had blinked automatically and emptily against that eye-stem.

"What have we here?" the man sneered.

"This is the new girl," Charly said quickly, moving in and grabbing Lana's arm.

"Must be the first of May," the man said. "What's your act?"

"She does trick riding. I'm taking her to Bettina."

Charly began to drag her off. Even so, Lana couldn't stop staring. The man watched after her with that bloodied split smile. "I look forward to seeing you perform," he called after them.

"That's Rooney," Charly hissed in her ear. "You steer clear of him."

"Is he okay?"

"He's mean as a snake, and just as oily too," Charly said. "That what you mean?"

"No, I mean his face."

"Look, girlie." Charly sounded like she was going to tell Lana what for, but then Lana realized they had stopped before one of the train cars. Big fancy letters proclaimed the car for Abaddon's Circus of the Damned.

"So it's like a horror show?" Lana asked. It didn't make much sense.

"You think any other kind of show's gonna take a mug like this?" Charly asked, gesturing to her own face. "My options are limited. You could call it a freak show."

"Oh." Lana had never seen horror make up that realistic, not even in the pictures. Lana wasn't sure how she felt about this kind of circus. She didn't much enjoy horror movies, and Freddy had always dragged her to the drive-in whenever one was playing. He liked when she buried her face in his shoulder. Somehow they always scared her even when she knew it was all pretend.

Finally they arrived at an area fenced off with metal gates. Lana was surprised to see that the horses were just as made up as the people. Most of them were covered in burns that left most of their skin looking bald. Others had long gashes in their flanks, like they'd been attacked by the lions and tigers.

In their midst, a redhead wearing a white leotard covered in silver sequins drifted through the small herd, her hands passing along their many scars.

"Bettina!" Charly called.

The girl looked up. She had a look of permanent disdain on her porcelain face.

"I got a new girl for you. Meet Lana."

Lana gamely stuck out her hand, though she was unsurprised when Bettina looked at it with a curled lip. Lana noticed some remaining blood flecks and grime on her palm and rubbed them on her jeans.

"What would you like me to do with her? I got Mitch to water and muck."

"Come on, Betty, you know you can always use an extra hand so yours don't get too dirty," Charly goaded. "'Sides, Lana here's a trick rider. I figure she could join your act."

As if Bettina didn't already hate her enough, Lana thought, grimacing. And true enough, Bettina lifted herself up into her full height. "My name is Bettina, Charlene, and you will address me as such. And I work alone."

Charly was already walking away, leaving Lana to stand awkwardly. She decided to familiarize herself with a few of the horses as Bettina kept talking.

"You just keep on walking, Charlene. Don't think I don't know where you sleep at night!" Bettina whirled around to face Lana. "And you, May, you can just save your dreams of the spotlight. You ain't goin' nowhere but the muck heap. Back and forth. Got it? I don't care if you're a horse whisperer, you'll be shoveling shit as long as I'm here."

Lana stroked the muzzle of a pretty black mare clean of the scars the others had. She looked to be part Friesian with a long, curled mane and feathered forelocks. She blew into the horse's nostrils.

Bettina's hand clamped on the mare's halter, causing the mare to toss her head up. "This here's Onyx, and she's mine. I care for her. No one else. Got it?"

Lana backed up a step and nodded.

"You can start off with that lot." Bettina jabbed a thumb at a group of six snow white horses. "They need to be groomed and combed for the parade. Their show harnesses are in the wagon."

For a moment Lana thought that would be Bettina's last command and she could finally get to work, but Bettina spun on one heel and added, "You'd best make sure there's no shit stains on their legs. Rooney won't like that."

Then she left.

Finally Lana was left alone with the horses. This was home; this was where she was most comfortable. The white horses looked to be Arabian, and were all fairly clean already, if a little sweaty. Lana rubbed the horses down and combed the knots out of their manes and tails, then began to figure out the complicated and colorful show harnesses. She only wished she knew their names.

The circus's herd didn't have a palomino like Sunny.

She finished up and led the six white horses separate from the rest. She was just checking the horses' legs for stains when a voice came from behind her.

"You must be new."

Was that all anyone thought when they saw her, a girl in a pair of dirty jeans and a blood-stained shirt? "That's original," she said tartly, and turned around.

It had been a man's voice, but she hadn't expected him. The beautiful man from the trapeze.

He no longer wore his green tights – he had changed into a pair of baggy, stained khakis and wellington boots, but his chest was still bare and shone with sweat. His skin was a shade darker than his hair. Lana had never seen muscles like those that seemed to flex permanently across his chest and arms.

"Most new folk we get are pretty experienced," the man said, "and they don't take fifteen minutes to sort out a harness." He arched an eyebrow at her.

"And I suppose you're an expert?" Lana retorted.

"You're a feisty one, I'll give you that," he said. "What kind of circus did you come from?"

"I was never in a circus," Lana said. "I work with horses."

"There must be some reason you're here," he countered.

Lana shrugged, forcing her eyes away from his muscles.

"Fine, be that way," he said, and wandered off.

"You'll get used to them," said Jack, who had appeared at her elbow.

"Them?"

"Well, most of them. The kinkers. I'm not like that." Jack grinned again.

"You all need to talk normal," Lana complained.

"Kinkers. The performers. As opposed to what everyone thinks you are, which is a roustabout, a shit shoveler. Most of the kinkers think they're better than everyone else. Bettina, especially. She's the worst."

"I'm what?"

Lana groaned at the sound of Bettina's voice. Of course she would pick this moment to return.

When Lana turned, Jack was gone.

"Little sneak," Bettina sneered, then sauntered over to the white horses and looked them up and down. "They'll do."

She took all six horses in hand, then glared at Lana. "Well? I could use a leg up."

Lana rushed forward and offered her laced fingers for Bettina to place a rhinestoned white boot in. The bottom was caked in manure, which oozed into Lana's palms. Bettina took a moment to examine Lana's expression with smug pleasure, and Lana hid her grimace and lifted the woman up and onto the lead horse's back.

Except that Lana lifted her too high, and Bettina tumbled over the horse's side. Without a shred of grace, the performer smacked into one of the other horses and hit the ground hard on her hip.

"I'm so sorry," Lana blurted. "I didn't mean—"

"You little bitch," Bettina sputtered.

Lana rushed to help her up, but Bettina shoved her away. "You conniving little bitch!"

This got the attention of several performers nearby, as well as a few of the "roustabouts." They gathered around the fallen Bettina.

"What did you do?" It was the blond man from the trapeze again. He lifted Bettina to her feet as though she weighed no more than a feather.

"It was an accident," Lana tried to explain.

"She's trying to steal my act," Bettina wailed, though no tears formed in her eyes. "She threw me over the horse, and now look at my costume!"

The man looked at her with icy eyes. "I think you had better leave," he said.

Lana backed away and ran blindly into the crowd.

Eventually the crowd thinned and Lana could see the edges of the fairgrounds, the line between light and dark. She stopped running and stood there, looking out into the night. She couldn't see anything beyond. Times like this she wished she had a homing instinct like a dog. With her luck she'd end up wandering onto the tracks and get smashed by an oncoming express train.

And Tansy might still be out there, too. "Here, slutty slut slut slut."

Lana wavered on that edge of light. She looked back at the strange and wonderful circus world behind her. It was impossible to imagine herself fitting in here. She had already pissed off the biggest bitch in the place and gotten the stink eye from Rooney, the apparent ringmaster.

At some point morning would come, and then Lana could definitely find her way home. It must be nearing dawn soon – this terrible night couldn't last forever.

Lana stepped into the darkness. One step, then two more. Almost immediately the light of the circus behind her felt like something separate. And even more immediately, Lana felt a stabbing pain in her stomach.

A few more steps, and a dam sprung loose. A wave of blood immediately soaked her shirt through, and she gagged on the pain that shot through her middle.

"Help," she tried to say, but she gagged on the blood too, which sprayed from her lips.

She fell to her knees.

She wasn't going to make it home. Behind her, the light pulled at her. She used her last ounce of strength to turn back. Her fingers found purchase in the scrub grass, pulled her closer.

Just over the border back into the circus, she collapsed.

___

Lana may have pissed off Bettina and Rooney, but she's made some friends with Charly and Jack. But what about the man on the trapeze?