CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"Why am I here? Why am I here?" Gus asked himself over and over again. He wandered the grounds of the circus, staring at the familiar and not-so-familiar. There were no people. No children laughing. It was dark. Why was it dark?

Hearing familiar voices, he walked toward the sound, following his instincts. It was Sean and Patrick. They were arguing. Then again, they always seemed to be arguing. Why?

Right. Nozo. He was a mess that kid, but he showed up for mass every week and confession at least once a month, sometimes more. That was more than he could say for his father and uncle.

Moving around the two men, he wandered toward the midway. The lights were out, but he could imagine when the games were playing, the bells ringing, the people cheering as someone won their favorite stuffed animal. He especially liked it when the kids would turn over a rubber duck and see a number that would get them a prize.

Further down, he noticed the circus museum. He remembered the two men speaking about it but didn't remember ever seeing it before. Or had he?

He walked through the thin aluminum door and stared behind him as if expecting an alarm to ring. The walls were covered in old photos of famous circus performers and animals.

He loved the sights, sounds, and smells of the circus. Even the animal smells were somehow comforting to Gus.

There were exhibits showing famous costumes, tight rope, hoops, and juggling objects. There were exhibits for the strange and unusual that had once been called the ‘sideshow' or ‘freakshow.' Gus never cared for those. He felt it was cruel and certainly not appropriate for those who had died and had no choice.

He remembered a circus that he went to as a boy. There was a sideshow attraction with a woman billed as the fattest woman in the world. She wasn't the fattest. She was big, but she wasn't that big. They made her sit in a silly dress like a little girl. It was pink with ruffles around the collar and at the bottom of the dress. She wore white stockings and shiny black shoes.

But what Gus remembered most was the sad look on her face. She wasn't waving. She wasn't happy. She was embarrassed and sad. He knew that look. He understood that look.

No. He didn't like the sideshows.

At the end of the makeshift building was an exhibit of the seven wonders of the world. He didn't remember the O'Noth Circus ever being outside of North America, but maybe times had changed.

The first exhibit was memorializing the Great Wall of China. There was a brick in a glass case claiming to be an original. Gus wasn't the smartest man in the world, but he knew that China would have never allowed that brick to leave the country. There was a replica of the wall built on a piece of plywood, showing it sprawling across the country.

He was unimpressed.

The next exhibit was a model of the Taj Mahal. It was a beautiful replica, and you could listen to a story about why it was built and the love story behind it. Of course, you had to be able to push the button, and Gus reached out and was surprised when the button depressed. A beautiful voice came on speaking about the love story of the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan and his wife, Mumtaz Mahal. He smiled, listening to the beautiful story, sad when the recording ended.

Chichén Itzá was next. It looked like an Egyptian pyramid with a lot of smaller buildings around it. Again, it was a replica, so Gus couldn't really judge whether it was a wonder or not. He'd driven near it many times when making runs to Mexico, but never took the time to stop and visit. He regretted that now.

The replica of Petra was magnificent. The color of the red rock and the carvings on the outside were amazing. Gus wanted to be angry with himself for not having traveled more. Maybe he could now. If he could travel from the island to here, maybe he could go anywhere if he wanted to. Maybe his new existence would allow him to go wherever he wanted.

Machu Pichu, Christ the Redeemer, and the Coliseum were all models as well. The last exhibit made Gus stop. The models of the Pyramids of Giza made his heart hurt for some reason.

There were fake artifacts, fake death masks, and next to the model were four fake mummies. He stared down at them, shaking his head. It was as if they were making fun of death. Each one of the exhibits had been presented by one of the circuses as a part of the competition. This one seemed all too real.

Other exhibits showed other wonderful sites around the globe, but this one was really getting to him.

"Why?" he asked himself.

His head suddenly felt heavy, his feet feeling as though they were sinking into the floor. As he began to lose whatever consciousness he had, he whispered to himself and anyone who could hear him.

"I know why."