Mental Shrillness Read online

  -4-

  She handed him a thin rubbery mask.

  "What's this for?"

  He took the mask, making a face.

  "Like Harry said, we're here to help you in the process. Put it on."

  "The orange-green eyes are kind of . . . weird, Regina."

  "Reg, Reg, Reg, please! You'll get used to the mask. Like you're getting used to me."

  He started following her, raising the mask to his face. He felt it suctioning his flesh. He stopped, wincing. Warm fluid slid down his shirt. He touched it.

  "Don't worry, baby, you'll be with us for the show tonight."

  He brought his finger to the slit in his eyes.

  Blood. The mask was eating his face.

  He started screaming and Stag, along with a billy club, appeared to silence an unimportant detail.

  * * *

  Stag's clever and yet grim illusion was his inaccurate description of friend and guardian. He was definitely Damon's guardian. But not from others who might hurt Damon. That must have been another of the "unimportant details." He was there to make certain Damon wouldn't escape. Damon was still coherent enough to recall how Harry had evaded why the Illusion had fled. Now the Illusion's reasonings were coming into dreadful focus.

  FOR HIS OWN, WELL, COMPLICATED REASONS.

  Why do I want to leave? Damon pondered. He felt unsafe, threatened. He didn't know where he'd go or what he'd do, but he didn't belong here. He was losing something valuable. Something constructed with immeasurable time and effort.

  Quid pro quo. Dream for reality?

  Damon continued the shotgun rehearsal.

  Stag watched with a wry smile and somber eyes. He clapped after every illusion whether it was botched or not. Damon found that by wearing the mask his sleight of hand was become remarkable.

  He also felt the mask sucking the blood from of his face. It was exchanging its twisted abnormal world for the life Damon was quickly departing.

  He had to remove it soon. He feared the consequences if he didn't.

  "With the card and table illusions done, baby, you always move onto the bigger things," Regina said and walked behind the curtain.

  "I need some air."

  Stag stood and the billy club dangled threateningly at his side.

  "Stag, I *must* have some."

  "The show goes on in five hours," Stag finally replied. "You have rehearsed only ten percent of the act."

  "Air, Stag."

  Stag reached for the billy club and then decided against it.

  "You don't understand, you can't go out there."

  "Why?"

  Stag walked up the stage. Regina returned with two large connected boxes on wheels.

  "Baby, you want to go outside?"

  "I'm taking him, Reg. Be right back." He ushered Damon to the right exit of the tent.

  Damon stopped at the door. He analyzed the surroundings. These tents had to be inspected by someone. He looked for fire and smoke detectors running along the wall. None.

  Damon almost jumped when Stag tapped his shoulder. Stag opened the door and motioned out. Damon stepped out of the darkness and into the sunlight.

  He heard and felt it at the same time. Bacon sizzling on the grill of his face.

  "AHHHhhhhh!"

  Stag quickly shut the door. He grabbed Damon's arm and moved him back to the dimly-lit dressing room. The sound of running water tickled Damon's ears.

  Stag pulled Damon's hands from his face and splashed his eyes with water.

  Slowly, the world unblurred.

  "Stag...it was horrible."

  "You can never go into the light again." Stag started for the door and Damon raised a weak hand.

  "Is that why the Illusion escaped?"

  Stag didn't reply.

  "Did the Illusion feel as trapped as I do?"

  "You will get used to it."

  "WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME, STAG?"

  Stag opened the door and then turned once more. "You have fifteen minutes to regain yourself before I return. The show must go on tonight."

  The door shut slowly, seemingly entombing him.

  -5-

  Damon looked into the mirror. He touched the flesh and felt where the rough seal began. The flesh seemed to move as if there was a heart beating beneath it. The ghastly connection continued. Quid pro quo. He couldn't fall prey to the Illusion. He studied his mind and a huge silver cross shone brilliantly again. Oh the beauty! No, he couldn't! The Illusion must not steal the beauty of light.

  He took a deep breath and grabbed where the wriggling edges of the mask and his flesh grotesquely uniting.

  And started ripping.

  * * *

  Pain. The degree that he felt as he raised his red, dripping face to the mirror was unbearable. He could see his eyes had turned blue

  (again?)

  and there was a thin translucent web of living sticky skin clinging to his face. It slid and fell off his face in maggot-sized strips to the counter, burning to nothingness in the mirror's glowing white eyes.

  Outside he heard a faint, yet familiar voice. A discussion. His name.

  (DAMON)

  He recognized one of the voices from the pleasant corridors of his brain. The sunny, sandy place where the church with the huge silver cross flashed again. Not anyone associated with the carnival. Somebody he cared deeply for.

  He went to the sink and washed his face. What would Harry or Regina or Stag do to him once they'd realized he'd removed the mask? His heartbeat began galloping.

  He sought the room for a weapon. Stage clothes, makeup, paint, props—WHERE WAS A GODDAMN AXE?

  The doorknob rattled.

  "Time's up," Stag said as he opened the door.

  Damon turned the water faucet on and dunked his head in the sink, scooping the water into his face.

  "Trying to drown yourself or what?"

  "My face, it really hurts."

  "It shouldn't anymore, let me see..." Stag put his hand on Damon's shoulder and turned him.

  Damon imagined the billy club being raised and lowered on his skull permanently. He closed his eyes, flinching, raising his hand.

  A long silence. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

  "Looks a little red, but the mask seems fine to me," Stag said.

  "It...does—yes, good."

  "Reg is waiting."

  HE DOESN'T REALIZE I REMOVED IT.

  "I heard a familiar voice," Damon said. "Who was out there?"

  "Harry was talking to one of the marks for tonight's show."

  Marks: the term carnies used to separate their kind from the outside.

  "What's that about?"

  "Come on, I'll show you."

  Damon followed Stag. He caught another look in the mirror on the way out to the stage. His eyes were still blue.

  Out near the back row was a woman talking with Harry. She had blond, neatly cropped hair.

  "Ah, our Illusionist has arrived! Please, maam, come meet him."

  The woman walked down the aisle and stared at Damon. Regina walked over and stood beside Damon. He felt like he should recognize the woman but didn't.

  "I am looking for my husband, sir. My name is Linda Brooks."

  LINDA.

  The name struck warm chords, but Damon couldn't place it exactly.

  "He got up this morning and has, well, he doesn't answer his cell phone, he didn't go to work, he—"

  "I was just telling Mrs. Brooks that a day of absenteeism is hardly cause for alarm," Harry interjected.

  "He mentioned this carnival and specifically having to see a 'Harry' and a 'magician'."

  "I am an illusionist," Damon said, and felt odd for the outburst.

  "You haven't seen my husband then?" Linda removed a picture from her purse. The man in the photo was tall and swarthy. A wedding photo, no doubt, as the man was in a tuxedo and Linda looked radiant and sexy in a long white flowing gown.

  The man had blue eyes.

  IT IS ME.

  -6- />
  Damon was handcuffed by the unseen; he couldn't act upon his thoughts.

  "Here is a pass for the show this evening, Mrs. Brooks. I'm sorry we aren't able to help you." Harry gave Linda the ticket. "Perhaps your husband was planning on coming to the show tonight?"

  "Maybe, he always wanted to be a magician." Linda smiled and then closed the uncomfortable silence with, "Well thank you for your help. I'm sure Damon will turn up."

  DAMON. Linda was his wife. HIS WIFE!

  She started down the aisle and for the door. Harry turned to Damon, his smile twisting and turning into a grimace.

  "She will be the mark for the grand finale tonight, Damon."

  "I-I-I..."

  "You will choose her out of the audience, Damon. It is the final test for an Illusion to be successful."

  Regina raised a hacksaw from the magician table. "Tonight I'll help you really saw a woman in half."

  * * *

  The rehearsal concluded two hours later but Damon remained only marginally prepared. He'd become living proof that you couldn't turn a dream magician into Houdini in one day.

  Still, there seemed to be a more leading significance to the show that was about to go on in less than one hour. Damon tried mightily to carry on his own illusion, while looking for an escape.

  Stag shook his hand after the last attempt of the levitation illusion.

  "You were really good today."

  "Thank you, Stag. Can I ask a question? Harry had mentioned to me earlier that last night you were despondent when the Illusion left."

  Stag's black eyes darted away.

  "Please, if we are ever to become 'friends', we must trust each other. Why were you upset?"

  Stag was silent for a long moment. Finally he turned and pointed to the empty seats in the auditorium. "I can never be in their eyes what you will be."

  "You want to be an illusionist?"

  "Oh yes."

  Damon took off the magician's hat and put it on Stag's head. Stag eyed him dreamily and then yanked the hat off.

  "You don't understand. Tonight you will." Stag started leading Damon back to the dressing room where he'd wait for the curtain call.

  "About tonight," Damon said, "what if I don't call the mark for the Illusion?"

  Stag stopped and turned. "The Illusion will be a failure. You will have to be let go."

  "Let go?" Damon tried not to sound as enthused as he felt. "As in...released?"

  "Yes." Stag opened the dressing room door. "Being that I am assigned your permanent guardian, I would have to kill you. I am guarding you from temptation, among other things."

  Damon walked in and sat in front of the mirror. The door closed and locked behind him. Obviously Stag didn't trust him at all. But why hadn't Stag seen him unmasked?

  Regina entered forty minutes later. The sound of the audience beginning to file in outside was loud behind the opened door.

  She sat next beside him and stroked his cheek.

  "Reg, I don't know if I am ready for this."

  "I'll be there, baby, right through the finale."

  She turned his head and planted a long and wet kiss on his lips. Damon pulled away and stared into her eyes. She was everything he wanted in a fantasy. But the simplicity of

  (!Linda!)

  and the life he'd left this morning was the stability a man ultimately desired. Dreams couldn't hold their framework for eternity.

  "I need to ask you something, Reg."

  "Anything, baby."

  "Stag says if I can't go through with it, I'm dead. I...I don't know if I can."

  She tittered and kissed him again. "You were dead from the boring world you knew the instant we first made love, baby. We can explore your every fantasy, Damon, together. You and I. Forever."

  "I ... this whole thing scares the hell out of me."

  "Very soon it won't matter anymore."

  -7-

  "Is the show tonight about more than me, Reg?"

  Reg kissed him again. "I want you again, Damon."

  He pushed past her kisses. "It's about the Illusion and reality merging, isn't it?"

  She pulled off his shirt, kissing him repeatedly.

  "If I am successful what kind of madness will I unleash, Reg?"

  She removed his pants and pulled him onto the floor.

  He violently slapped her face.

  She recoiled, rubbing the red patch on her cheek.

  "Never again."

  She nodded, the tears pooling in her eyes. "You still love her, you bastard! I'm going to tell Harry—"

  Damon grabbed Regina's throat and shoved her back against the door. Her eyebrows rose.

  "You'll tell him nothing! I'm a married man. You may have taken my belongings and my face but you haven't taken my soul."

  Regina gasped.

  "Yes, some things go beyond the mind, don't they?"

  "Y-you a-a-re e-e-vil!"

  The door opened and Stag walked in.

  Damon threw Regina to the floor. Realizing that it mattered who got there first, he made the first move toward Stag's billy club.

  Stag punched Damon with a left fist and the sound of crunching bone echoed in the room. Damon pulled the billy club out of Stag's holster and they tested each other's strength. Damon turned, knelt, and flipped Stag and the billy club over him and crashing into the mirror. Glass exploded throughout the dressing room, some of which sank into both men's flesh.

  "YOUUUUUU!!!" Damon screamed, wrenching the billy club free.

  Regina rose to her feet, shaking her head. She raised her long fingernails and raked Damon's back.

  Damon turned and slammed the billy club on her skull. This time she fell unconscious, a line of crimson zigzagging across and down her forehead. Stag rushed from behind with shards of glass sticking from his jigsaw cheeks. Stag sacked Damon like a quarterback and into a chair which blew apart upon impact.

  Damon grabbed a chair leg and started hammering Stag's head. He collapsed and Damon raised and lowered the broken leg four more times until Stag stopped twitching.

  He wiped the blood from his lip and turned for the door.

  Harry stood in the doorway and applauded.

  "How clever, Damon. You've unmasked yourself."

  Damon raised the leg and felt something invisible grab his wrist and bend it backwards. He watched his hand shake and finally drop the wooden weapon.

  "The Illusion chose well, indeed. You are strong."

  "I know what you are up to and the show is never going on."

  "You really think so?"

  Damon felt the constriction on his throat began. He raised a hand fleetingly. Fell to one knee.

  "I could choke away your pathetic life right here, Damon."

  "C-c-can't-...b-b-b-reaathe..."

  "No you can't, can you?" Harry said, laughing. "I can't change that you've been chosen for more than death. Look at them waiting for you out there."

  Invisible hands grabbed Damon and lifted him like a puppet. Forced him to the doorway. He could see the attendees calmly and orderly filing into the tent.

  "What is inside your head is the remnant of the greatest Illusion the carnival world has ever known. They have come from everywhere to see you perform tonight. THE Illusion. The show will go on."

  The hands pulled him back and slammed him on another chair.

  "W-what are they?"

  "They are Illusions, too, Damon. The only one who isn't is your precious Linda. You will give them what they came here for tonight. Proof that the transference is possible from reality to Illusion."

  Harry walked over and grabbed Regina's hair and hoisted her head. He reached beneath her chin and started ripping her mask free.

  -8-

  Damon's blood iced in his veins.

  "There are supplicant and performer masks. You are a definitely a performer, Damon." Harry shook the limp, dripping mask while Stag climbed slowly to his feet.

  "My god...you are all Illusions?"

  "Not me," Sta
g said, rubbing his chin.

  "He's so stupid he couldn't even tell you were unmasked," Harry said, glowering at Stag. "Go get his lovely Linda. Or do I need to hold your hand for that too?"

  "No, sir." Stag paused only to reclaim his billy club.

  "What are you doing with Linda?"

  "It is obvious you won't cooperate unmasked. We'll have to cancel the sawing-the-wife-in-half finale in favor of the truth."

  "Why am I so damned important to your plan?"

  "Tonight after the Illusions see your successful transference they will leave and begin branching out to other marks inside the carnival ground. Then they will spread across the country replacing daylight with Illusions."

  "You are an insane race."

  "What the mind doesn't comprehend it labels."

  "You don't miss the light?"

  "We don't need the sun to wage our war."

  "That's exactly what it is too, 'a war'. Why can't we just co-exist? As we always have. We'll keep our dreams you keep yours."

  Harry shook his head defiantly.

  "I'll never help you."

  "Unmasked you won't, no."

  Regina's mask dangled threateningly in Harry's hand.

  "Regina's mask is for me?"

  "Get your hands off me!" Linda cried as Stag and her burst into the room.

  "No," Harry said, "it is for her."

  Harry pushed the mask over Linda's face and her screams were muffled as the heinous interweaving of flesh and mask began.

  "You son of a b—"

  The constriction on his throat tightened.

  Harry moved over and kneeled before Damon. "I never thought you were the greatest, DENNY."

  DENNY.

  Damon's eyes bulged. At last the Illusion's host became obvious. His stepdad who had disappeared years ago in search of a fantasy.

  "I thought the bastard was dead."

  "That's what people think when you join the carnival, Damon." Harry said. "We cling to a life of our own. Literally."