All the Earth, Thrown to the Sky

  The gun barked.

  Strangler staggered, but he still didn’t go down.

  Bad Tiger took one more step back, and that was when it happened.

  He stepped right in between the whirling seats of a ride, but he was there for less than the blink of an eye. The next seat swinging around caught him solid, and I got to tell you, it was an amazing and a horrible sight.

  It lifted him so quick it was hard to believe it was happening. It was like he had learned to fly.

  He was tossed like a Raggedy Ann doll. It flung him up, and he fell back down. But he didn’t hit the ground. He was struck again by another seat and bounced into a pole. That bounced him back into another spinning seat, and that one caught him in such a way that he was knocked across the lot at a height of about thirty feet. He went like he had been shot out of a cannon.

  We watched with amazement as he crashed into a popcorn stand and it exploded in a rain of white puffy corn and a running man. Oily butter leaked yellow over the ground. Bad Tiger’s suit soaked it up like a fresh biscuit.

  Bad Tiger didn’t move. He was facedown and one arm was twisted behind his back like he was trying to scratch a hard-to-reach spot low down.

  “Oh,” Tony said. “Oh my.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Oh my.”

  Dazed, we walked over to Strangler. He was holding his hand against his left side. There was a bloody spot on the right side of his bare chest as well. But Strangler, he was still standing.

  A crowd gathered around Bad Tiger, but then they just stood there looking at him. One man stepped forward and nudged Bad Tiger’s body with the toe of his shoe, like he was trying to wake him up.

  Someone else yelled, “Get a doctor!”

  Strangler said, “I can tell you from here. Ain’t no need to check his pulse.”

  48

  A while later an ambulance sped up with its siren on and two men jumped out and opened the back and rolled out a stretcher, headed for where Bad Tiger lay.

  They picked him up and turned him over gently, put him on the stretcher. One of the men carrying him, said, “Well, he’s ate his last pickle.”

  A man in the crowd pointed at Strangler.

  “He was shooting at that guy, the one without a shirt, and he backed into the ride while he was doing it.”

  “Not our department,” said one of the ambulance men.

  They put him in the ambulance and drove away. No siren, moving slowly. No one in a hurry now.

  We walked with Strangler to his trailer. Inside, he put the false bottom in the trunk, replaced the barbells and all the rest back inside, and closed the lid. He sat on the couch and looked at Timmy. Timmy looked smaller than I remembered.

  After a while, the cops came, two of them. They knocked on the door politely, and when I let them in they looked at the body on the floor, then at us. One of the cops was thin with a sweet face. The other was a stocky cop who looked like he ate bullets for breakfast and cannons for dinner. For supper, maybe the cannonballs.

  Jane was wrapping Strangler’s side. There was already a bandage on his chest.

  She said, “I reckon both bullets are still in him.”

  “He looks spry for two bullets,” said the stocky cop.

  “Yeah, well,” Jane said, “he is naturally spry.”

  The cops walked over and looked at Strangler.

  “Someone called a doctor,” said the thin cop. “He’s on his way.”

  “I’m all right,” Strangler said. “It wasn’t much of a gun.”

  “You could still use a doctor, ” Jane said.

  “You know,” said the stocky cop, “we got a body on the floor, we got another one thrown through a popcorn stand, twisted up like a Boy Scout knot, but we ain’t got no explanation.”

  “He tried to rob Strangler,” Jane said.

  “Who are you?” the cop said.

  “A fan. I run his fan club. He doesn’t know it yet, but we just started one. We came here to tell him that, and that’s how we got mixed up in all this mess. We’re from Oklahoma.”

  “Oklahoma?” the stocky cop said.

  “Yeah, state just above Texas,” Jane said.

  The thin cop grinned. The stocky cop said, “Yeah, girlie, I know where it is. But why did you come all the way from Oklahoma?”

  “We are all fans of Strangler,” she said. “Right?”

  She looked at us when she said that.

  Tony nodded.

  I nodded.

  “Fans?” said the stout cop.

  “Big fans,” Jane said.

  “So you heard of Strangler here, and you come all the way down from Oklahoma to tell him you’re starting a fan club?”

  “Well,” Jane said, resting a hand on Strangler’s shoulder, “it’s a little more complicated than that. We didn’t like the weather, the drought, the sand, the grasshoppers, the starving rabbits, the centipedes everywhere, the scorpions, and did I mention the dust?”

  “You did,” said the stocky cop. “You’re a little smarty, ain’t you?”

  “I like to think so,” Jane said.

  “That’s not what I meant,” said the cop.

  “All I’m saying, sir, is we’ve had a hard time, and we were very excited to be here, to finally tell our hero about the fan club. And frankly, we were looking for a job with the carnival. Strangler has quite a following in Oklahoma and the South. East Texas especially. We thought a fan club would be nice. And we thought a quarter per membership could add up.”

  “So it was a way to make money?” said the thin cop.

  “Money,” Jane said, “and a way to honor our hero. We just came to tell him. We wanted his blessing. Course, I’ll be honest with you. With or without it, we were going to form the fan club anyway.”

  “So, fan club aside,” said the stocky cop. “How’d all this happen?”

  “Simple,” Jane said.

  “Don’t you talk?” the stocky cop said to Strangler.

  “Yeah, but she’s explaining real good,” Strangler said.

  “As fate would have it,” Jane said, “we tracked Strangler down, came by to tell him about our plans, and those two dreadful men, they tried to rob him. The man that crashed the popcorn stand, he shot that man on the floor there over some argument. We don’t even really understand what he was mad about, do we?”

  This was directed at all of us.

  Tony shook his head.

  I shook mine.

  Strangler said, “Yeah, it was kind of confusing.”

  “My take,” Jane said, “if you want it, is they come to rob poor Strangler here, they didn’t want to share it with one another. You know the story. No honor among thieves. My guess is they were already feuding over something and it got carried into their work, so to speak. It came to a head right here.”

  “Why would they want to rob you any more than anyone else here?”

  “I don’t know,” Strangler said. “I don’t have anything.”

  “He’s famous,” Jane said. “Fame draws good and it draws bad. They were bad.”

  “I’ll say,” said the cop.

  “They thought he had money,” Jane said. “Just because he’s a famous fighter, they thought he had some real dough. But, alas. He does most of what he does for the love of it. Right, Strangler?”

  “Right,” Strangler said.

  “For the love of it, huh?” said the stocky cop.

  “You know who that was?” said the thin cop. “The one that ate the popcorn stand? That was Bad Tiger.”

  “The gangster?” Jane said. “Oh my. And who’s that on the floor, Dillinger?”

  “Timmy Durango,” said the stocky cop. “He goes by other names, but that’s his real one. He’s bad as any of them. It was Bad Tiger, though, that was the brains.”

  “He ain’t got any now,” said the thin cop, “unless you want to gather them up and put them in a popcorn bag.”

  “Crime doesn’t pay,” Jane said. “And that’s just the long and the short of the mat
ter, don’t you think?”

  “You really do talk a lot,” the stocky cop said to Jane.

  “It’s a gift,” she said.

  49

  We spent some time down at the station while Strangler was with the doctor getting the bullets pulled out, and we all told the story Jane told. It wasn’t that good a story, but it was as good as any other. No one even thought Strangler might have ever robbed a bank. And if they thought there was any stinky fish in our story, they didn’t say so, least not direct-like.

  When it was over, the cops drove us back to Strangler’s trailer, which was the only place we had to stay, and we took a nap. Tony on the couch, me and Jane sleeping in chairs. When we woke up, Strangler still wasn’t home, but we were hungry.

  We found some bread and canned goods and made sandwiches, and were eating when Strangler came in. He was dressed in a loose shirt and dress pants and regular shoes. They were the clothes he took with him when the police hauled us off.

  I felt kind of funny, us eating his food and him standing there in the doorway. Jane, however, seemed quite comfortable.

  Jane said, “Can I fix you something?”

  “I’m all right,” he said. “That was some lie you told,” he said to Jane.

  “It’s her specialty,” I said.

  “I just felt the truth lacked something,” she said.

  “They believed it good enough,” he said. “They’re just happy to have public enemies off the charts. Those two had let me go and gone on about their business, they’d be alive today. Well, Bad Tiger might be. I think he was planning to shoot Timmy all along.”

  “About the money, Strangler,” Jane said.

  “I know. I lied to everyone, then lied to myself, but it’s something to have a liar like you call me on lying.”

  “Mine doesn’t hurt anyone,” she said. “It helped.”

  “This time,” I said.

  “All right, this time,” Jane said. “But you got all that money, and that’s the bank’s money.”

  “Banks aren’t people,” Strangler said.

  “Sure they are,” Jane said. “Who do you think puts money in the bank?”

  Strangler went over and sat on the trunk with the money. He said, “Yeah. I know. I know good. I really did intend to send it back. I mean, I do intend to send it back. I kept it to look at for a while. To think about what I might have done had I kept it.”

  “You might have spent about ten years in jail,” Jane said. “You still might.”

  “You’d say something about it?” Strangler said.

  “I don’t know,” Jane said.

  “Me either,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t tell,” Tony said. “Me, I don’t care. I could use some money.”

  I could tell that sort of hit Strangler where he lived.

  “Nah, you ain’t that way,” Strangler said to Tony. “You and me, we ain’t like that. I made a mistake, but I got to make it right.”

  “Don’t make it so right you go to jail,” I said.

  “I’m not wanting to make it that right,” he said. “Tomorrow, I get some boxes, and you kids help me mail it back. That all right?”

  “I suggest we drive someplace not so close to mail it,” Jane said. “They might trace it somehow, and if they see it come from around here, and they get to thinking about Bad Tiger and Timmy looking you up, it could all come together, and not in a good way.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Strangler said.

  “We can pack boxes with the money,” Jane said, “and we can make a note with words cut from newspapers and glue them on paper. We can put the note inside one of the boxes with the money. It can say something like: Here’s the money back, sorry. No signature, of course”

  “That sounds good,” Strangler said.

  “We can drive to someplace in Louisiana to mail it,” Jane said.

  So that was the plan, and that’s what we did. After that, well, there’s not much left to tell.

  We stayed at Strangler’s trailer for a while, because none of us had any real place to go, except Tony. I guess Jane and I were welcome at Mrs. Carson’s, but, truth be told, we’d tasted too much of the world and had adventures, and we weren’t ready to settle down.

  Me and Jane took a day and drove over to the Winona area in Junior’s truck. I wanted to give it back, and we’d also get to see Gasper. I hoped Junior would drive us back to the carnival after.

  I found the road where Junior lived, and we drove down there. The house was empty. It looked as if no one had ever lived there. There was no note. Junior and Gasper and Nasty were gone. I know it’s not very satisfactory, but that’s how the truth is sometimes, because we never saw or heard from them again. I like to think they went up north for work and found it. Nasty being the exception. I just hoped he had a warm fire to lie in front of.

  As for the truck, well, Junior said he didn’t care if he got it back, and now I knew he meant it.

  We drove back to the carnival, and for the next few days we taught Jane how to drive. She took to it like a squirrel to hickory nuts. It wasn’t no time at all till she could keep the car on the right side of the road and could steer with one hand and wave to folks with the other. Strangler said she was a natural. Fact is, she was a dang site better than me in two days. I didn’t like hearing that, but it was the truth. Tony decided he wanted to go back to Mrs. Carson. Me and Jane didn’t like the idea on one hand, but we figured it was for the best. He liked having a home, and ought to have one. Besides, growing up with either of us, me and Jane decided, was akin to being raised by wolves.

  Jane had a few dollars, and Strangler gave Tony a few, and she and Tony left early one morning.

  It all happened so fast the day they left, I didn’t feel I got to tell either one of them a proper goodbye.

  Jane said she’d write in care of the carnival, general delivery. The carnival’s next town was Tyler, so she said she’d send it there. She did just that, and the letter said she was coming to see me.

  She came and I met her in Tyler, at the carnival. Me and her and Strangler had a visit, and then later that night I walked with her off the carnival lot and we rode in Junior’s truck, which was now her truck, and we ended up at a spot outside of town where the earth rose up high and there were lots of trees and a little drop-off where you could see the dark roll of a few hills and the high bright light of the moon and the stars.

  She sat with her hands on the wheel. She said, “Sometimes I lie a little.”

  “I know that.”

  “I love Tony, and I want him to be happy,” she said. “I even dragged him all over creation with us. But that isn’t what he wants, Jack.”

  “I know that too.”

  “He’s happy where he is. I’m not.”

  Suddenly, my stomach felt a little queasy. “I was planning on getting loose from the carnival, coming to see you and Tony.”

  “You love the carnival. I can tell.”

  This was true, but I didn’t say anything.

  “I think a person ought to go their own way, if that way is tugging at them,” she said. “You know what I mean?”

  “I think so. But I don’t know it bodes well for me.”

  “Let’s don’t talk about it anymore. Kiss me, Jack.”

  I did. Long and hard. It was as sweet a kiss as I ever had. When it was finished, Jane leaned forward and cranked the truck. The moonlight was bright enough I could see tears on her cheeks.

  We drove out of there then, back to the carnival, but when we got there, Jane didn’t get out. She said, “I got a long ways to go, so I’m going to get after it.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Tony will expect me back.”

  “All right,” I said.

  She leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. Kissed me good. I gave her the same kind of kiss, and feeling a little stunned, I got out of the truck.

  “Goodbye,” she said as I held the door.

  “Goodbye,” I said. “I love you.”
r />   I hadn’t planned it, but the words had just jumped out of my mouth like a frightened frog.

  She smiled at me. “I’ll write.”

  “I’ll be in Hawkins in a few days,” I said. “Send it to general delivery there. I’ll leave a follow-up address for when we move on.”

  “That’s good,” she said.

  Without really thinking about it, I gently closed the door, then watched as the truck moved away, rattling along, picking up speed, heading down the road, into the moonlight.

  50

  She didn’t write.

  A few days later, I rode with Strangler to Hawkins, and pretty soon I was helping out with the carnival. Helping Strangler, actually. Kind of an assistant. He paid me for the work. It wasn’t much, but it was money, and it was my own money. I was a carny and I loved it.

  Thing is, though, we got to Hawkins, and I went to the little post office there every day, and no letter ever came.

  I had Mrs. Carson’s address, and I wrote Jane when we moved on to Texarkana. I told her to address my mail to the Memphis post office, general delivery. That was our next stop.

  When we got to Memphis there was a letter for me from Mrs. Carson. She wrote that Jane had moved on. I felt like my insides had fallen out of me.

  Moved on?

  That wasn’t quite what I had hoped for.

  The carnival wound up into Missouri and even Kentucky, before coming back down along the edge of Oklahoma. When we got there, Strangler bought a car, and he let me borrow it. It was an older car, but it ran fine. I drove on across Oklahoma to where Mrs. Carson lived.

  It was a pretty burnt-out state, the dust still blowing, the grasshoppers still eating. I had a little money saved up now, so I stopped and got gas and ate at cafés, and even stayed a night in a boardinghouse. All things considered, it was a pretty comfortable trip compared with the one I had taken with Jane and Tony.

  But, I got to be honest, it wasn’t as much fun.

  When I got to Mrs. Carson’s, I went up to the house and knocked, and she was glad to see me, and Tony was too. He told me he had been going to school, and he loved it, and had only been in two fights.