F. - Repairman Jack The Last Rakosh

a Repairman Jack story

by

F. Paul Wilson

2006 by F. Paul Wilson

ISBN: 1-892950-75-8 / 9781892950758 (USA edition)

I dont know about this, Gia said as theystood outside the entrance to the main tent. A faded red-and-yellowbanner flapped in the breeze.

Jack checked out the sparse queue passingthrough the entrance: A varied crew running the gamut frommiddle-class folk who looked like theyd just come from church toGoth types in full black regalia. But nobody lookedthreatening.

Whats wrong?

It looks like some sort of freak show. Sheglanced quickly at Vicky, then at Jack. I just dont know.

Her meaning was clear.

Truth is, Im having second thoughtsmyself.

You? Gias faint, pale eyebrows lifted. Ifthe most politically incorrect man I know is hesitating, wedbetter turn around and go home.

Jack had seen a flyer for the show andthought this might be a unique experience for Vicks, an exhibit ofweird objects and odd people doing strange trickssort of like abunch of Lettermans Stupid People Tricks under one roof. But hedidnt want to take an eight-year-old girl to a freak show. Thevery idea of deformed people putting themselves on display repulsedhim. It was demeaning, and people who paid to gawk seemed to comeoff as demeaned as the freaks on display. Maybe more so. He didntwant to be one of them.

Go home? Vicky said. I thought we came outto see the show.

I know, Vicky, Gia began, but its justthat

You said we were going! Her voice startedpitching toward a whine. She turned to Jack with a hurt look.Jack, you said! You said we were gonna see neat stuff!

Vicky was very good with that look. She knewit wielded almost limitless power over Jack.

You might be scared by some of the things inthere, he told her.

You promised, Jack!

He hadnt actually promised, not in so manywords, but the implication had been there. He looked to Gia forhelp, but she seemed to be waiting for him to make a decision.

Well, he said to Gia, I think shell beall right. When Gias eyebrows lifted again, he added, Hey, Ifigure after what she went through last summer, nothing in theresgoing to scare her.

Gia sighed. Good point.

Jack led them to the ticket booth where heforked over a twenty.

One adult, two children, please.

The guy in the booth, a beefy type sporting astraw boater, looked around.

I see two adults and one kid.

Yeah, but Im a kid at heart.

Funny.

With no hint of a smile, Mr. Ticket slid twoadults and one child plus change across the tray.

Inside, the show seemed pretty shabby andJack wondered if theyd been had. Everything looked so worn, fromthe signs above the booths to the poles supporting the canvas.Glance up and it was immediately apparent from the sunlight leakingthrough the canvas that the Oddity Emporium was in dire need of newtents. He wondered what they did when it rained. Thunderstorms werepredicted for later. Jack was glad theyd be out of here and ontheir way back home long before.

As they strolled along, Jack tried toclassify the Ozymandias Prather Oddity Emporium. Yeah, a freak showin some ways, but in many ways not.

First off, Jack had never seen freaks likesome of these. Sure, they had the Worlds Fattest Man, a giantbilled as the Worlds Tallest Man, two sisters with undersizedheads who sang in piercing falsetto harmonynothing so specialabout them.

Then they came to the others.

By definition freaks were supposed to bestrange, but these folk went beyond strange into the positivelyalien. The Alligator Boy, the Bird Man with flapping featheredwings...

Did you see the Snake Man back there? Giawhispered as they trailed behind the utterly enthralled Vicky.

Jack nodded. These freaks were so alienthey couldnt be real human beings.

Got to be a fake, he said. Make up andprosthetics.

Thats what I thought, but I couldnt seewhere the real him ended and the fake began. And did you see theway he used his tail to wrap around that stuffed rabbit and squeezeit? Almost like a boa constrictor.

A good fake, but still a fake. Had tobe.

One aspect of the show that reinforced hissense of fakery was that there was nothing the least bit sad orpathetic about these freaks. No matter how bizarre their bodies,they seemed proud of their deformitiesalmost belligerently so. Asif the people strolling the midway were the freaks.

Jack and Gia caught up to Vicky where shedstopped before a midget standing on a miniature throne. He had atiny handlebar mustache and slicked-down black hair parted in themiddle. A gold-lettered sign hung above him: Little SirEcho.

Hi! Vicky said.

Hi, yourself, the little man replied in anote-perfect imitation of Vickys voice.

Hey, Mom! Vicky cried. He sounds just likeme!

Hey, Mom! Little Sir Echo said. Come onover and listen to this guy!

Jack noticed a tension in Gias smile andthought he knew why. The mimicked voice was too much likeVickyspitch and timbre, all perfect down to the subtlest nuance.If Jack had been facing away, he wouldnt have had the slightestdoubt that Vicky had spoken.

Amazing, but creepy too.

Youre very good, Gia said.

Im not very good, he replied in a perfectimitation of Gias voice. Im the best. And your voice is asbeautiful as you are.

Gia flushed. Why, thank you.

The midget turned to Jack, still speaking inGias voice: And you, sirMr. Strong Silent Type. Care to sayanything?

Yoo doorty rat! Jack said in his bestimitation of a bad comic imitating James Cagney. Yoo killed mybrutha!

Gia burst out laughing. God, Jack, thatsawful!

A W. C. Fields fan! the little man criedwith a mischievous wink. I have an old recording of one of hisstage acts! Want to hear?

Without waiting for a reply, Sir Echo beganto mimic the record, and a chill ran through Jack as he realizedthat the little man was faithfully reproducing not only the voice,but the pops and cracks of the scratched vinyl as well.

Marvelous, my good man! Jack said in a W.C.Fields imitation as bad as his Cagney. But now we must take orleave. Were off to Philadelphia, you know.

You should stick to your own voice, Giasaid as Jack guided her away from the booth.

Jack didnt tell her that something in apre-rational corner of his brain had been afraid to let the midgethear his natural voice. Probably the same something that madejungle tribal folk shun a camera for fear it would steal theirsouls.

Look! Vicky said, pointing to the far endof the midway. Cotton candy! Can I have some?

Sure, Gia said. You go ahead and pick thecolor and well be right there.

Jack smiled as he watched her go. Always goodto give Vicky a head start if a decisions such as shape and colorwere involved. She agonized over those sorts of minutiae.

As they passed a booth with a green-skinnedfellow billed as The Man from Mars, Gia took Jacks hand.

Vicky seems to be having a great time. Sheleaned against him. And to tell the truth, Im kind of enjoyingthis myself.

Jack was about to reply when a childs screampierced them, froze them.

Jack looked at Gia and saw the panic in hereyes. It came again, unquestionably Vicky's voice,high pitched, quavering with terror.

Jack was already moving toward the sound,traveling as fast as the crowd would permit, bumping and pushingthose he couldn't slide past. But where was she? She'd been movingahead of them down the midway only a moment ago. How far could shehave gone in less than a minute?

Then he spotted her skinnyeight year old form darting toward him, her face astrained mask of white, her blue eyes wide with fear. When she sawhim she burst into tears and held out her arms as she stumbledtoward him. Her voice was a shriek.