Chapter 11

 

     Heather hadn’t gone back to her family’s trailer after making the phone call, until she knew her father would be in Clown Alley.  Either her timing was off, or he had waited as long as possible for her return, because just as Heather lifted a foot toward the first stair, the door opened and her father emerged

 

     The girl’s eyes dropped to the ground.  The steps leading into the Airstream were too narrow for her to brush past her dad.  She was forced to remain where she was until he stepped down. He laid a hand on her arm.

 

     “Heather--”

 

     The twelve-year-old refused to make eye contact.

 

     “Honey, you know I don’t like to be stern with you or Jay.  That’s your mother’s territory, not mine.  I hope you understand why it was necessary this time.”

 

     The girl’s eyes darted to her dad’s face.  “I...I’ll understand, Daddy, if only you’ll understand, too.”

 

     “Understand what?”

 

     “How I feel about Samara. Why I’m certain that what Bhagi is doing to her is wrong. I know I’m only twelve, and I know I’m not the elephant trainer, but I know right from wrong, Dad.” Heather locked gazes with her father as she stated firmly, “You’re the one who taught me right from wrong.”

 

     Pat sighed. Right now he didn’t have time to debate the issue of Samara with Heather. 

 

     “Sweetheart, I think you and I need to go somewhere and talk.  This evening, after the show, how about if your dad treats you to dinner?”

 

     “I thought I was grounded.”

 

     “I’m making an exception in this case.”

 

     “What about Mom and Jay?  What about the movie and dinner the three of you were going to?”

 

     “Mom and Jay can go eat where they want to, and then go on to a movie.  You and I will go to dinner wherever it is you’d like to.”  Pat winked at his daughter. “As if I don’t know what restaurant you’ll choose.”

 

     Heather couldn’t help but give her father a small smile. If Jay had his choice, which he undoubtedly would tonight with Mom, he’d pick any place that served hamburgers – Burger King being his preference. As far as Heather was concerned, that wasn’t dinner.  Not a real dinner anyway.  She liked a place with linen napkins and a quiet atmosphere – not the sort of restaurant her parents normally took their children to, simply because of the cost of four meals.  There was a restaurant named Elegance that Heather had been to with her father two other times when they’d been in Los Angeles.  If the menu was lacking anything, Heather couldn’t imagine what it was, and there were candles on the tables, and dim lighting, and it was quiet, and most importantly, there were linen napkins. 

 

     “Elegance,” Heather stated.

 

     Pat nodded. “Yep, that’s just what I knew you’d say.”

 

     The man placed a palm on the back of his daughter’s neck and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. “Go inside and comb your hair and wash your face, then check with Diane to see how you can make yourself useful.”

 

     Diane was Jack Benton’s wife, and she generally assigned the Cherry Pie work to any kid or performer who had time to help out on show day.

 

     “Okay.”

 

     As Heather’s father started to walk away, the girl questioned, “Dad?”

 

     The man turned around. “Yeah?”

 

     “If I...no matter what I did...or do, you’ll always love me, right?  I mean, you’ve always told Jay and me that.  That a parent’s love is forever and ever, no matter what a kid does.”

 

     “That’s right. That’s what I’ve always told you, and yes, it’s true.”

 

     “And you’ve always said that the animals are like kids to their trainers, right? That Kristof loves his lions like he loves his little girl, and that Aleksander loves his tigers just like he loves his two little boys, and that Bhagi loves his elephants like he’d love kids if he had any.”

 

     “That’s true,” Pat acknowledged, happy to see that Heather finally understood that Bhagi did care for his animals. “The trainers love their animals as though those animals were there children, Heather.”

 

     Heather gave a sad shake of her head. “You’re wrong about Bhagi, Dad.  He doesn’t love Samara no matter what she does.”

 

     “Heather...”   

 

Heather ignored the warning tone in her father’s voice. “If he did, he wouldn’t beat her, Daddy.  He wouldn’t beat her until she was afraid of him. He wouldn’t beat her until she cried.  I just wanted you to know that.” 

 

Heather climbed the two steps and grasped the door handle. She looked down at her father before entering the trailer and said quietly, “It’s important that you know that.”

 

Pat watched his daughter enter their home.  He wasn’t certain if he should put stock in anything she said, or if, like Lynette had told him a little while ago, the recent emotions attached to Samara were probably nothing other than the unstable moods of a girl who was just beginning to enter puberty.  

 

The father sighed as he headed for Clown Alley.  If this was what being the parent of an adolescent girl was like, he dreaded the next six years. On the other hand, as he passed Bhagi’s elephants and heard Samara give a cry of fright when she saw the Indian come out of his trailer, Pat was forced to admit his daughter might be right. Maybe Bhagi’s methods weren’t the ones he should be using in order to gain cooperation from Sarama.

 

Pat shrugged as he picked up his pace. He had no time to worry about Bhagi and his elephants. Pat had to get ready for the performance, because no matter what concerns he might have at this moment, the show must go on.

Chapter 12

 

     If there was anything about the circus he didn’t like, John DeSoto couldn’t name it.  From the moment the show opened with the performers and their animals parading around the ring, to the tight ropewalker, to the lions that roared really loud, to the acrobats, to the tigers that jumped through flaming hoops, to the aerialists, to the bare back riders, to the bears riding bicycles, to the jugglers, to the trapeze artists, to the dancing elephants, to John’s favorites – the clowns, there wasn’t an act the boy didn’t watch with rapt attention. 

 

John’s eyes slid back and forth, back and forth, as he watched the trapeze artists swing overhead. He’s mouth gaped at the tight ropewalker.  He asked his uncle Johnny just how the jugglers kept so many balls in the air at once, but Uncle Johnny didn’t know, and John wondered just how the lady acrobat could bend over backwards that far.  Uncle Johnny seemed to wonder that too, because he was grinning when the lady did it, and didn’t seem to hear John’s question.

 

John laughed at the clowns each time they appeared, and like the rest of the audience, clapped and called them back when the clowns ran out. Sometimes they came back and started their antics all over again, and sometimes they didn’t come back because it was time for another act to begin. The circus band, whose members were seated in a stand of bleachers all their own across from Johnny and John, played each time the clowns appeared, and then put a halt to the music when the clowns left.

 

The only time John stopped smiling was for a few seconds when the elephants performed. One of the elephants just sat there and wouldn’t do what her trainer commanded.  At first the audience thought that was part of the act and laughed, but then people could sense the trainer was getting upset. The crowd quieted as the man tried to get the elephant to balance on one leg, but each time he moved toward her, she bellowed and backed away.

 

John had leaned into Johnny and asked, “How come she doesn’t wanna do anything?”

 

“I don’t know,” was all Johnny said, though by the way the elephant was acting, Johnny knew she was scared of her trainer. His long association with animals gave Johnny insight to the fact that if the animal was frightened of the man, then he had probably given her reason to be.

 

The trainer tried two other times to get the elephant to perform. Johnny saw the man throwing glances at the ringmaster, as though he was fearful of the ringmaster’s disapproval.  That made the trainer more aggressive with the elephant, which only caused the elephant to get more upset. Johnny tensed a bit, anticipating that something could go drastically wrong if the man didn’t back off. Fortunately, before that happened, the trainer turned away from the elephant and left her alone throughout the remainder of the act.  When the elephants marched out, the one that hadn’t wanted to perform lagged behind, as though she was dreading what would come next. 

 

Johnny watched until all four of the elephants and their trainer disappeared through a flap in the tent.  Any further thoughts he had regarding the elephant that wouldn’t perform, left him when the ringmaster spoke one last time and thanked those in attendance for being such a good audience.  He invited everyone back when the circus returned next year, then ran for an exit as the clowns appeared from all directions. The band started playing again as the audience stood and clapped. Clowns on bicycles chased one another around the rings, while clowns on mini-bikes raced back and forth from one end of the tent to the other.  Some clowns rode unicycles, while others shook hands with children in the audience. As the crowd slowly began to make their way out of the bleachers, clowns with squirt guns appeared and a water fight ensued. Next came the midget clowns John had seen before the show started, and a whole new round of antics began. 

 

Johnny estimated fifty clowns were in the tent entertaining as the audience filed out.  The band played while the crowd snaked down the bleachers and toward the only two exits being used for the general public. 

 

At this rate it’ll take us a good thirty minutes to get to the parking lot, Johnny thought as he took John by the hand again when they reached the center stairs. Good thing I told Joanne not to expect us before six-thirty.

 

Because of John’s chosen seating, Johnny and the boy were unable to move forward at a swift rate. They also had to deal with people stepping on their heels and bumping into them from behind.

 

Now I know why Roy always lets me bring his kids to the circus and doesn’t come along, too. 

 

Johnny was relieved when he and John were finally on the solid ground that made up the tent’s floor, but they were still moving at a turtle’s pace.  The fact that they were sandwiched between people and barely making progress toward the exit, didn’t bother John. He was content to watch the clowns and laugh at their antics, no matter how many times he saw one squirt the other with water, or saw the midgets run by while vowing to get each other.   

 

Between the clowns, the band, and the crowd, the noise in the tent was deafening.  Johnny had given up trying to hear what John said, because it required him to bend over and put his ear next to the boy’s mouth.  Considering how close Johnny was to the people behind him, bending down was next to impossible.  He settled for hanging onto John’s right hand and hoping every other adult who had come to the circus with a child was smart enough to do the same thing.

 

Trying to find a lost kid in this crowd would be hell.

 

Johnny smiled at the tow-headed girl in front of him. She was being carried by her father, and rested her chin on his shoulder.  Her eyelids drooped as though she’d missed her afternoon nap, which probably explained her lack of interest in the clowns.  Johnny estimated the child to be two years old, and her sister, who was hanging onto their mother’s hand, looked to be four or five.  Like John, the older girl’s attention was focused on the clown troupe.

 

As Johnny shuffled forward he craned to see the exit, but couldn’t spot it.  He didn’t remember the crowd being this large when he’d brought Chris and Jennifer to the circus, but he couldn’t recall if they’d come on a weekend, or on a weekday, when attendance would be lighter.

 

Maybe I’m just gettin’ old and starting to be more and more like my dad, Johnny thought, in reference to the fact that his father hated two things above all else – crowds, and standing in a line.

 

If it hadn’t been for the noise, Johnny would have realized trouble was brewing outside of the tent.  But because of the noise, Johnny didn’t hear the elephant being beaten, nor did he   hear Samara and her companions bolt from their trainer and stampede toward the tent.

 

The first indication Johnny had of impending disaster was when he felt a slight ground tremor.  He heard someone behind him cry, “Earthquake!” and though Johnny still wasn’t sure what was happening, he scooped John up and held him firmly between his chest and the crook of his left elbow.

 

The boy cast a puzzled glance at the paramedic. “Uncle Johnny, I want down!” John twisted in Johnny’s arms so he could see the center ring. “I can’t see the clowns as good from here.  I--”

 

Screams interrupted John. Johnny felt the crowd surge from behind. He was smashed into the family in front of him. The tremor changed to a rhythmic rumbling that sounded like the pounding of hundreds of horses’ hooves.  Johnny had no idea what was stampeding the tent, but one thing he did know, the crowd’s panic was only going to make things worse.  Before Johnny could urge everyone to calm down, the people behind him started running, leaving the paramedic no choice but to run, too. Johnny viewed the chaos in quick, brief segments as it flashed by him. People who hadn’t made it out of the bleachers yet spilled from them with total disregard to their own safety, or the safety of those they shoved aside when they got to the ground. The band members tossed their instruments, scrambled from their stand, and fled in all directions. The clowns followed suit, some of them hopping on the back of the mini-bikes for a quick escape.  A few clowns remained and tried to calm the crowd, but their voices couldn’t be heard over the din.

 

Johnny caught the word, “Elephants!” shouted from behind.  He knew then the source of the quaking ground. Hysterical people pushed past him, elbowing him in the ribs and causing him to stumble into the family in front of him again.  He held onto John as the boy screamed with fright. Whether John knew what was happening, or whether the crowd’s fear fueled the boy’s, Johnny wasn’t certain. 

 

“Hang onto me, John!” Johnny ordered. “Hang onto me!”

 

     “I wanna go home, Uncle Johnny!” The boy wrapped his arms around Johnny’s neck in a boa constrictor grip. “I wanna go home! Please!  I wanna go home now!”

 

     The little girl who had been holding her mother’s hand was knocked to her knees.  The woman lost her grip on the child as the crowd forced everyone to keep running.

 

     “Amanda!” The woman shrieked. “Amanda! Amanda!”

 

     Johnny grabbed the crying child under her armpit and swooped her up.  He thrust her into the mother’s reaching arms.  He barely had the girl handed off when someone shoved him out of the way.  Johnny stumbled again, but this time couldn’t regain his footing.  When he hit the ground all he could think of was the need to protect John.  He shoved the hysterical boy beneath his body and lay on top of him. No one attempted to help Johnny to his feet, as the panic-stricken crowd fled for any exit they could find.

 

     The paramedic cried out as his back was stomped on and he was kicked in the ribs. Had he not been holding John in his arms, Johnny would have used them to protect his head. Because of his inability to do that, the sharp steel toe of a man’s cowboy boot caught him in the back of the skull and tore open a patch of skin from the nape of his neck to the crown. 

 

Blood ran down Johnny’s neck, as the bellows of marauding elephants filled his ears.

 

 

Chapter 13

 

     Roy stood surveying the scene of the traffic accident Station 26 had been called     to, which wasn’t much of a traffic accident at all.  The driver of a late model Mercedes Benz had swerved to avoid a dog in this residential neighborhood. The car had jumped the curb, and then hit a postal collection box. There were no concerns regarding a fire, meaning the engine crew wasn’t needed. The driver allowed the paramedics to check him over, but refused treatment beyond their examination. The man insisted he was fine, and when the paramedics couldn’t find anything that negated his words, they had him sign the MICU form.

 

     The driver told Roy he was an oncologist at Harbor General, and was on his way to work. He assured Roy he would have someone in the emergency room look at him just as soon as he arrived.  He’d already used his car phone to call his wife and a tow truck.

 

     “I’m fine, Captain,” the doctor insisted a final time as a squad car pulled up to take the accident report. “Thanks for everything.”

 

     Roy had always been cautious about leaving a victim who had refused treatment, if no friend or family member was on the scene to get help if needed after the paramedics departed. However, the doctor appeared to be fine just like he’d stated, so now that a cop was present, Roy indicated to his men that it was time to return to the station.

 

     Captain DeSoto had just climbed into the passenger seat of the engine and made Station 26 available, when the tones sounded over the radio, then sounded again and again and again and again.  Roy glanced at his engineer, Don McWinters, who said, “Must be something big.”

 

     “Station 18, Station 26, Station 36, Station 42, Battalion 12, Squad 15, Squad 44, Squad 46.  Multiple injuries caused by rampaging elephants at the Barker Activity Grounds - 723 Barker and Vine.  7-2-3 Barker and Vine.  Proceed with caution. Repeat: multiple injuries caused by rampaging elephants at the Barker Activity Grounds. Proceed with caution.”        

 

     Mac cocked an eyebrow at his captain.  He and Roy had worked together out of Station 14 as rookies, and then had spent the next year working together at Station 78. When the rest of the crew wasn’t around, Captain DeSoto was ‘Roy’ to Mac.

 

“Rampaging elephants?” Mac snorted. “Now I’ve heard of everything.”

 

Roy tried to conceal his concern. “There’s a circus being held there today.”

 

The captain picked up the mike and acknowledged the call. He saw Brett slide the trauma box back into its slot, close the doors, and jump in the squad where his partner, Craig Iverson, waited behind the wheel. Brett flipped the switches for the squad’s lights and siren, as the vehicle pulled away from the curb.  Roy did the same on the engine, as Mac gave the air horn two long blasts before following the squad.

 

Mac’s eyes slid to Roy. He’d known the man too long not to pick up on the worry that was emanating from him.

 

“Roy, are you okay?”

 

“Yeah...yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“You don’t sound fine,” Mac said, while returning his eyes to the road.

 

“That...that circus?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Johnny took John there this afternoon.”

 

Mac was silent a moment, before stating firmly, “Johnny won’t let anything happen to your boy.”

 

Roy hesitated, then nodded. “I know.”

 

Roy’s hesitation wasn’t a result of any doubts he had where Mac’s words were concerned.  No, Johnny wouldn’t let anything happen to John...if he could help it. It was Roy’s own thoughts of ‘if he could help it’ that caused the father within the captain to worry.   

 

Roy pushed his concerns aside as best he could, while directing Mac to the grounds where the circus was being held. Mac knew where the grounds were located, but he didn’t tell Roy that.  He figured it was best if Roy had something to focus on other than the fates of his son and John Gage.

 

 

Chapter 14

 

Johnny wasn’t sure how many feet used him as step. Finally, a pair of hands grabbed Johnny’s arms, but his benefactor lost his grip as the frenzied mob forced the man onward.  Blood ran from Johnny’s nose now, and his lower lip was split. Feet had kicked the left side of his face, causing his eye to bruise and swell. Johnny knew he had to get out of the crowd’s path, but between his injuries and the running feet he couldn’t stand. He glanced to his right and spotted the bleachers.  Without letting go of the screaming John, he crawled for them, crying out when another foot caught him in the ribs.

 

     There was just enough space between the bottom bleacher and the ground for Johnny to slither through. He pushed John through first, then followed the child as someone stomped on his calves.

 

     Johnny panted for breath and hugged his ribs a brief moment. He ignored the blood running down his face, grabbed John with his left arm, and used his right elbow to inch them farther beneath the bleachers. When they reached the middle section and were beneath the area where they’d been seated, Johnny paused and held the crying boy close.

 

“It’s okay, John,” the paramedic soothed. “We’re okay now.”

 

     “I wanna go home, Uncle Johnny.” John buried his head in Johnny’s chest. “I wanna go home!”

 

     “I know.” Johnny turned to spit blood out of his mouth. He swiped at the remaining blood with his right arm, smearing it against the bare skin between his wrist and his elbow, where his shirtsleeve was rolled up and secured. “We’re gonna go home in a little while, kiddo.”

 

     Johnny eyed the tent wall thirty feet in front of them. He could hear sirens, meaning someone had called 911.  He looked through the space in-between the bleachers. People were still running past, but not nearly as many as before, which caused the paramedic to conclude that most of the crowd had dispersed. How many people might be lying injured in the tent, Johnny didn’t know.  He hoped he’d been the only one knocked down, and shuddered to think of the fate of any child who was trampled like he’d been.

 

     Thank God I was able to hang onto John.

 

     The sirens got louder and closer, and were joined by more and more sirens, which meant the police would soon have the scene secured. Johnny tightened his grip on John.

 

“John, we’re gonna head for the wall of the tent and crawl out underneath it, okay?”

 

     The boy pulled away from Johnny’s chest and gave four hiccoughed sobs in an effort to squelch his tears.

 

     “O...o...okay.  Then...then are we goin’ home?”

 

     “Yeah, then we’re goin’ home. We’ll get outta this tent and head for the parking lot.”

 

     John reached a tentative hand toward Johnny’s bloody face.

 

     “You’re hurt.”

 

     Despite the pain it caused him, Johnny gave the boy as much of a reassuring smile as he could manage considering his split lip.

 

“Nah. It’s just a little cut.”

 

     “But you’ve got blood all over your shirt, and you’ve got a black eye, and your nose is bleeding.”

 

     “Don’t worry about me, Little Pally. I’m fine.”

 

Johnny grimaced and fought back a cry of pain, as he pushed himself to a half-standing position while clinging to John’s hand.

 

     “Please let’s go to my house, Uncle Johnny,” the boy begged, trying not to cry again. “My mom will put Band-aids on for you. She’ll take care of you. I promise.”

 

     “I know she will.” Johnny assured.  He realized that right now, home represented safety to the six-year-old, which was why John was so adamant about going there.

 

Despite John’s wishes, Johnny knew he couldn’t trust himself to drive given his injuries, and especially not with John in the vehicle.  A series of long blasts from air horns told Johnny the fire department had arrived. Paramedics would be on the scene shortly, if they weren’t already. Johnny would get help for himself from one of the guys, then have a station captain or battalion chief contact headquarters. Someone there could call Joanne and ask her to come and retrieve John. However, those plans would have to wait until Johnny accomplished his first priority - getting John to safety.  

 

     Johnny could hear props, wood, and band instruments flying around the tent.  He didn’t have to see what was going on to know the elephants were tearing the structure apart with their trunks. Considering their combined weight was somewhere around thirty thousand pounds, Johnny knew they could do a lot of damage. Blood soaked the back of Johnny’s shirt and made it stick to his skin. The paramedic chief was light-headed and woozy, and when he swayed he was forced to grab a wooden bleacher plank above his head in order to stay on his feet. 

 

Johnny ignored the dizziness and pain washing over him, as the elephants’ rage spurred him forward.

 

“Come on, John,” he urged, while being careful not to let any fear creep into his voice.

 

     Johnny took as deep of a breath as his ribs would allow, coughed on blood he’d swallowed, and used the planks above his head to support him while he walked. He cried out as he took a step forward. Pain shot from his lower back all the way to his right heel. A muscle spasm seized the paramedic’s back. Johnny knew the muscles were trying to protect him from further injury by sending a message to his brain that said, “Don’t move!”  Unfortunately, not moving wasn’t an option at the moment.

 

     “Uncle Johnny, are you okay?”

 

     “Yeah...” Johnny gritted his teeth and took another step. “Yeah.  Come on...come on, John, let’s get outta here.”

 

     When Uncle Johnny didn’t call him ‘Little Pally’ or ‘kiddo’ but instead said ‘John’ in a serious tone, the boy knew things weren’t as okay as his uncle Johnny wanted him to think.  He gripped Johnny’s hand tighter and said, “I’ll help you walk. We’re not that far from the wall. You can do it, Uncle Johnny.”

 

     Despite his burning head wound, aching ribs, and the sharp pain in his back, Johnny smiled at the boy.  He was proud of his namesake.  He knew John had to be scared out of his wits, yet now that Johnny needed him to be calm and level-headed, John was coming through for him.

 

     The pair inched along. Johnny was barely able to lift his right leg from the ground, which made their progress slow at best.  Just when things had gotten quiet in the tent, and Johnny had hope the elephants had either left or calmed down, he heard a voice call out in a language he didn’t understand. He pegged the accent for East Indian. Because of that, an educated guess told Johnny the trainer had arrived on the scene.

 

     And that’s when all hell broke loose again.  The elephants screamed and the ground shook. Johnny cried out against his own pain as he scooped John up. He ran for the tent wall, dragging his right leg behind him, when a tremendous ‘boom!’ sounded above him, along with a man’s terror-filled shriek. The bleachers shook and a series of ‘ping, ping, pings’ sounded as bolts shot from their brackets. Johnny dove for the ground and lifted the canvas wall. He put his palm on John’s rear-end and shoved the boy underneath the canvas.

 

     “Go, John!  Get out! Go!”

 

     A rush of adrenaline meant the boy didn’t feel the rough corner of a falling board hit him on the right side of his forehead and slice the skin open. He slithered through the one-foot gap Johnny had created between the ground and the heavy canvas. John scrambled to his feet, taking brief notice that he was across from the booth where Johnny had purchased his toys.  

 

John turned around, waiting for Johnny to appear. He backpedaled with wide-eyed fright as the sound of the bleachers collapsing gave a thunderous ‘crash!’ A massive cloud of dust rose up from beneath the tent, and then it too collapsed, covering any debris...or human casualties, like a funeral shroud.

 

     “Uncle Johnny!” John cried, as dust coated the air.  He coughed, and took three steps toward the rubble. “Uncle Johnny!  Uncle Johnny!”

 

     Circus employees and police officers raced toward the tent, but John ignored their presence. John’s mother had always told him to seek out a police officer if he was ever lost or needed help, and John might have done that had it not been for one thing - the loud blast of air horns coming from the road.

 

     The boy ignored the blood running down the side of his face.  John darted between people, dashing around anyone who got in his way. He flew toward the parking lot, and the bright red fire engines coming through the gate.

 

    

Chapter 15

 

     Heather had been helping her mother and Marie Russell fill popcorn boxes when Bhagi appeared with his elephants trailing him. Heather had no idea what had happened during the show, but she could tell by the look on Bhagi’s face that he was furious. Whether his allowed his anger to overrule his common sense, or whether he was drunk, or in need of a drink, Heather didn’t know.  What she did know was that the man started beating Samara right out in the open with the club he carried.

 

     Marie gasped at the abuse, and Heather’s mother cried, “Heather!” as the girl raced from the concession stand.

 

     The twelve-year-old didn’t see Jack Benton stomping out of the performers’ ‘back door’ with a grim scowl.  The ringmaster witnessed Bhagi beating Samara, but before he could order the Indian to halt his actions, Heather yelled, “Bhagi!  Bhagi, stop!  Stop it!”

 

     The man turned on Heather as soon she grabbed his arm. He would have slammed his club into her skull if Samara hadn’t knocked him to the ground with a swoop of her trunk.

 

     “Stupid, girl!” The Indian cried. He jumped to his feet and wielded his club again.  He advanced on Heather. “Stupid, girl! You cause trouble for Bhagi, now Bhagi cause trouble for you!”

 

Benton ran toward the trainer, while Heather’s mother ran from the booth in an effort to protect her child.   

 

“Bhagi, that’s enough!” Mr. Benton ordered.

 

Bhagi’s rage was so great that he either didn’t hear the man, or chose to ignore him.  He raised his club, only to have Samara knock him aside again.  He stumbled over his feet and whacked her on the side with the weapon.  She cried out, and then kicked him with her massive foot. The Indian flew into the popcorn stand. He hit the back of his head on the wooden ledge, and had the breath knocked out of him.  He lay there, momentarily stunned, which was all the elephants needed.

 

If Heather could have given her elephant friends human characteristics that day, then she would have said that Chanda, Kamala, and Madri could no longer stand by and watch Samara suffer.  Kamala placed her trunk on Samara’s back, as though urging her to flee while she had the chance.  Madri did the same, and that’s when all four of the elephants turned and ran, heading directly for the tent that represented the lack of dignity, respect, and kindness in their lives, save for the love they received from one young girl named Heather.

 

Mr. Benton raced for the tent, while Marie ran for the trailer that served as his office. The office had a phone, and it was there that Marie placed the call to 911.

 

Heather and her mother heard screams coming from the tent. They watched as people spilled out in hysterical pandemonium.

 

“Dad!” Heather cried, knowing that her father would be with the clown troupe in the tent. “Dad!”

 

“No, Heather,” Lynette ordered. She grabbed her daughter’s hand. “No!” 

 

Lynette dragged Heather with her as she ran in search of Jay. The woman was worried about her husband, but Pat had grown up in the circus, and knew how to take care of himself. Lynette trusted that he’d do whatever he could to keep himself safe.  It was her children Lynette was most concerned with now.  The last she knew, Jay had been helping the bareback riders groom their horses.  He usually assisted in feeding and watering the horses after a performance, so she was counting on finding him with Juliana and Jolene, and Jolene’s boy, Nathan, who was a good friend of Jay’s.

 

Heather twisted, trying to get loose. “Mom, let me go!  I can get the girls under control. I can!”

 

By ‘girls’ Lynette knew Heather meant the elephants. Despite what she’d seen Samara do to protect Heather just seconds earlier, Lynette wasn’t going to allow her daughter to put herself in the path of danger.

 

“No, Heather, come on!  Let’s get Jay and get off the grounds. That’s what your dad always said for us to do if something like this happened. If one of the animals got loose, we were to get in the truck and--”

 

As screaming people ran by and knocked into the mother and daughter, Lynette lost her grip on Heather.  Before she could reclaim Heather’s hand, the girl was pushing people aside and running toward the tent. 

 

“Heather!  Heather!”

 

Two men in the panic-stricken mob grabbed Lynette’s arms and swept her along with them, thinking they were doing her a favor.

 

“No! No! My daughter!  My daughter’s back there!”

 

The men couldn’t hear Lynette over the screams of the crowd, and even if they had, they had no intention of stopping.

 

Lynette cried as she thought of Heather being trampled by people, or even elephants, but for now she had no choice but to focus her attention on reaching Jay and getting him to safety.

 

 

__________________

 

 

Heather fought her way through the sea of people spilling from the tent. Twice she stumbled, but managed to stay on her feet. Her hair was pulled and elbows jabbed her in the arms, but she kept fighting her way forward.  She reached an entrance to the tent just as Bhagi ran inside. The destruction made the girl gasp.  The elephants had torn apart the bandstand, the center rings, and a section of the bleachers. Paper drinking cups, cardboard popcorn containers, candy wrappers, peanut bags, purses, mismatched shoes, jackets, diaper bags, and programs littered the ground like snow. The garbage barrels had been knocked over and trash had spilled out. Heather spotted her father at the far end of the tent, directing the remainder of the fleeing people to an exit.  Jack Benton was carrying two screaming children, while assisting a limping man through a tent flap normally used by circus employees.

 

If only Bhagi had stayed away, Heather would think later.  If only he had stayed outside, things would have been fine. 

 

With the people gone, the elephants were calming down. The tent grew silent and the girls gathered together, as though they were now ready to exit in a far quieter fashion than they’d entered. 

 

As soon as the elephants heard the Indian’s voice, their rage rose again to a fevered pitch.  Bhagi had told Heather that elephants really do have the memory that is attributed to them, though often laughed off as being an old wives’ tale.  In Samara’s face, Heather saw the memory of every beating the beautiful, innocent creature had endured at Bhagi’s hands.  Samara lashed out as Bhagi stomped toward her. She grabbed the two thousand pound center support pole with her trunk and gave it a mighty yank.  Heather saw her father run toward the elephant.

 

“Daddy! Daddy, no!” Heather cried, but he didn’t hear her over the screams of the elephants. “Daddy, no!”

 

Guide ropes snapped like twigs, and the pole came down with a mighty crash as it hit a section of bleachers. The girl heard Bhagi scream, and saw her father turn to run as the tent started to collapse.

 

The elephants stampeded through Clown Alley, but before Heather could see if they, and her father, cleared the falling tent, someone grabbed her from behind and ran with her.

 

When she was thirty yards from the destruction, Heather was put down. She turned around to see Kristof.  She fell into his arms and started crying.

 

“Oh, Kristof. It wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t. It was Bhagi.  If he’d just left Samara alone. If he’d just--”

 

“I know, Heather.  I know.” The Hungarian held Heather at arms length and looked her in the eyes. “Now, are you going to stand here and cry, or are you going to help your elephant friends?”

 

“How...how can I help them?”

 

“We’ve got to get them rounded-up and calmed down before Mr. Benton has them shot.”

 

Heather’s eyes grew round. “Shot?”

 

Kristof nodded. “The police will shoot them if we can’t calm them, and convince Mr. Benton they are under control and will listen to us.”

 

“They’ll listen to us, Kristof.  They like us. They like both of us.”

 

“They do,” Kristof acknowledged, “but you, Heather...you are very special to them. Do you think you can stand up to Mr. Benton if you have to?  Do you think you can convince him that the elephants are not to blame for this?”

 

“I know I can. Mr. Benton saw what Bhagi was doing to Samara. He saw what started this.  That will make a difference, won’t it?”

 

Kristof glanced at the fallen tent, the incoming police cars and fire trucks, and the frenzied people still running for their vehicles.

 

“I do not know. Many people might have been hurt today.  It is hard to predict how Mr. Benton will react. But first things first.” Kristof took Heather by the hand. “Let us find the elephants.”

 

The girl looked up at the lion trainer as they ran toward the last direction Heather had seen the elephants fleeing.

 

“I...Kristof, I called that woman.  The one who has the wildlife refuge. The one whose name was in that article you gave me. She was coming here after the show to see if she could help with Samara. To see if Mr. Benton and Bhagi would let her give Samara a new home.”

 

“Good. Let’s hope she arrives soon.”  The man urged Heather along as he and the girl caught sight of policemen carrying rifles. “I have a feeling we are going to need all the help we can get.”

 

The girl said a brief prayer for her father’s safety, and for the safety of her mother and brother, as she ran beside Kristof. As much as Heather lover her family, she didn’t have time right now to find out what had happened them. She had to get to Samara, Madri, Kamala, and Chanda, before the police officers found them first.

 

  

Chapter 16

 

 

John DeSoto wiped at the blood on his face while he ran. The parking lot was filled with people.  Some were crying, some were bleeding, and some were hugging. John scooted around the police officers trying to calm the crowd, and get some idea of who was seriously injured and if there were any missing children.

 

John was so intent on getting to the arriving fire trucks, that no adult tried to stop him. He wasn’t crying, and had such a determined look on his face, that anyone who took notice of him thought the child knew exactly where he was going. As though he’d spotted his parents waiting for him somewhere in the lot.

 

John paused and watched the incoming trucks. He knew people at two stations.  Station 51, where Mr. Lopez and Mr. Kelly worked, and where John’s daddy used to work, and then Station 26, where his daddy worked now.

 

“Two, six. Two, six. Two, six.” The kindergartner kept repeating the digits he knew made up the number 26, as he watched for it to appear on the side of a passing engine. 

 

John wasn’t sure what he would do if Station 26 or Station 51 didn’t arrive on the scene, and that thought almost made him start to cry again.  But then John realized that if he just told a firefighter his name, and that he was at the circus with his uncle Johnny Gage, then the firefighter would help him even if the man didn’t work for his daddy, or wasn’t Mr. Lopez or Mr. Kelly.  John’s daddy and his uncle Johnny had been firemen for a long time – since years and years and years before John was born. The other firefighters would know who they were and would help John.

 

John mumbled, “One eight,” as he spotted the numbers on a big engine rolling by him. He then looked at the paramedic squad and engine turning into the lot behind it. 

 

“Two six!  Two six!” the boy cried, when he saw the numbers on the squad first, and then on the fire truck. He jumped in the air and waved his hands. “Two six! Two six!”

 

Mac caught sight of a boy racing toward the big truck. He gave a long blast of the air horn, but it didn’t deter the child. Mac took his foot off the accelerator and started to brake.

 

“What the hell is that kid do--”

 

It was then that Mac saw the blood on the boy’s dust-smudged face. At first Mac thought the child was letting him know that he needed medical help, but then the engineer got a better look at the kid as the boy ran closer.

 

“Roy, isn’t that John?”

 

Roy leaned forward and looked out the driver’s side window.  Mac was pointing at a little kid who was wearing camouflage pants, tennis shoes, and t-shirt.

 

“Mac, stop the truck!” Roy ordered, which Mac took to be a yes to his question.

 

The captain jumped out before the truck came to a full halt. Roy ran around in front of it, just as John launched himself into Roy’s arms.

 

“Daddy! Daddy!”

 

For a moment, all Roy could do was hug his youngest child.  He felt John squeeze his neck, as Roy kissed the boy’s cheek.

 

John felt so safe wrapped in his father’s arms, but then he remembered why he’d been running in the first place.  He pushed against Roy’s shoulders so his father would quit hugging him. 

 

“Daddy, we have to find Uncle Johnny.”

 

“Find him?”  Roy looked around. A sea of people was spread out before him, making it difficult to recognize anyone.  But Roy knew one thing – there was no way Johnny would allow John to run free on the grounds, which meant Johnny and John had somehow gotten separated in the chaos.

 

Roy wiped at the blood on John’s face, and tried to determine where it was coming from. 

 

“We’ll find Uncle Johnny, rascal,” Roy assured; using the nickname he’d coined his youngest with several years earlier. “Just let me look at your head and--

 

The boy batted his father’s hands away.

 

“No, Daddy! I mean we have to find Uncle Johnny so we can help him.”

 

“Help him? Help him how?”

 

“He was in the tent when it fell down. We were under the bleachers.  Uncle Johnny tripped, and people were running over him, but then he got us under the bleachers.  We were tryin’ to get out, only something happened and boards started falling.  Uncle Johnny pushed me under the tent, but he didn’t come out.  The tent fell on top of him, Daddy.”

 

Roy wasn’t sure what to make of this explanation. Before he could get back to his truck, a battalion chief’s station wagon pulled up beside him and Hank Stanley stepped out.  The man recognized the child in Roy’s arms with the dirty, bloody face.

 

“Roy? What’s goin’ on?”

 

Roy quickly told Hank what he knew, based on what John had said, as other fire trucks and paramedic squads swung around Engine 26.  

 

“I just got an update from dispatch as I pulled in,” Hank informed the man. “The main tent did collapse. They don’t know how many people might be in there.”

 

“Uncle Johnny’s in there!”

 

“John,” Roy said. “Are you sure about that?”

 

The boy nodded. “I’m sure, Daddy.  I waited for him to come out, but he didn’t.  Then I heard a big crash, like a buncha boards fallin’, and then the tent fell down and there was lotsa’  dust.”

 

Hank lifted his handie talkie to his mouth and gave instructions to the engine companies on hand to begin search and rescue of the fallen tent. He took his finger off the ‘talk’ button and looked at Roy.

 

“You take your engine crew and assist.”

 

Roy nodded, recognizing the favor Hank was granting. “Thanks, Cap...Chief.”

 

Hank smiled at the way old habits died hard. “You’re welcome.”

 

As Roy ran for the engine with John in his arms, Hank got in his vehicle and drove further into the parking lot. His job was to set up a command post. He’d oversee the evacuation of the injured, and make the summons for more engines, squads, or ambulances if needed, while at the same time directing the search and rescue efforts.

 

Roy boosted John into the engine, then climbed on board.

 

“Hey there, John,” Mac greeted while pressing his foot on the accelerator.

 

     The boy barely said, “Hi,” as he strained to see out of the window.

 

     “Where to, Cap?” Mac asked.

 

     Before Roy could answer, John said, “To the place where Uncle Johnny bought my toys.”

 

     Roy ignored his son and pointed straight ahead. “Chief Stanley wants us to be part of search and rescue. Swing her up there and we’ll...”

 

     “No, Daddy. We have to go where Uncle Johnny bought my toys.”

 

     “John, we don’t have time to worry about toys right now. We--”

 

     “But that’s where Uncle Johnny is.”

 

     “You told me he was in the tent when it collapsed.”

 

     “He is.  When he pushed me out, I was right by the place where he bought my toys.”  John patted his kangaroo pocket, while Roy dabbed at John’s bloody head with a handkerchief. “If we go by the place where Uncle Johnny bought my toys, then I can show you where he is.”

 

     Mac waited for Roy to tell him what to do.  Roy thought a moment, then said, “John, show Mac how to find this toy stand you’re talking about.”

 

     John did as his father instructed.  Mac got the truck as close as he could to the spot John indicated, before he put the engine in neutral and set the parking brake.

 

The massive canvas tent was covering what looked like mounds of uneven hills. In some places the canvas was draped fifteen feet from the ground, while in others, it was lying flat. Roy could see shapes beneath the tan canvas, but it was difficult to guess what type of debris the fallen tent might be hiding.

 

     Roy and Mac climbed out of the truck, while the reminder of Roy’s engine crew scrambled from their seats in the back. Roy ordered Tom Weiss to locate the electrical boxes and shut off the power supply to the tent.

 

     “Got it, Cap,” Tom said, as he ran toward a group of men dressed as clowns, who were gathered at one end of the fallen tent.  He conferred with the men for a moment, then cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “It’s already been done, Cap! The electricity’s off!”

 

     “Good!” Roy acknowledged, as he held his hands up to his son. He caught the boy beneath his armpits and swung him to the ground.

 

     “Let’s see if you can help us find where Uncle Johnny is.”

 

     Because the stand where John’s toys had been purchased was undamaged, it was easy for the boy to locate exactly where he’d crawled from the tent.  He led his father to the spot and pointed.

 

     “Here.  It was right here.”

 

     Before Roy could grab his son and send him to sit in the engine’s cab, John ran to the edge of the destruction.

 

     “John!”

 

     “I came out here, Daddy!”

 

     The boy bent down and gave a little cry.  Roy dodged the throngs of firemen already beginning search and rescue efforts.  When he got to where John was crouched, Roy knew what had caused his son’s reaction.  A man’s hand was sticking out from under the canvas. John grasped the hand before Roy could stop him.

 

     “Uncle Johnny!”

 

     “John, don’t,” Roy ordered, fearful his son might have just grabbed the hand of a corpse.  He didn’t allow himself to acknowledge that the corpse could be John Gage. The back of the hand was hairless; the fingers long, slim, and strong in appearance.  Though many men possessed hands with the same characteristics, at the moment Roy was all too aware that these were characteristics of Johnny’s hands. 

 

     Roy lifted John’s hand from the man’s, and reached for the pulse point on his wrist. Whoever it was, the man was still alive.

 

     Roy turned and shouted, “I’ve got a trapped man here!”

 

     As boots pounded the ground, the hand moved enough to be able to grasp Roy’s.  The captain’s hand was squeezed.  He squeezed back, and on nothing other than what Roy figured was a remote chance, hailed in a loud voice, “Johnny?”

 

     Roy barely heard the, “Yeah...yeah...Roy?” gasped in return.

 

     “Yeah, Johnny, it’s Roy! Can you tell me how badly you’re hurt?”

 

     “Roy...Roy...John?  John...he--”

 

     “John’s with me! He’s right here, Johnny. Don’t worry about him.”

 

     “I’m right here, Uncle Johnny!” John shouted.

 

     Roy thought he heard Johnny mutter, “Thank God,” but he wasn’t certain. Regardless, that sentiment and others like it would have to wait.  They needed to get Johnny, and any other victims, out as soon as possible.

 

     “Johnny, what are you trapped under besides this tent?”

 

     “Wooden...bleachers.  The bleach...the bleachers fell on me.”

 

     “Okay. Where are you hurt?”

 

     “Ribs...back...head...”

 

     When Johnny said no more, John added, “His face was bleeding, Daddy.  His nose and mouth, and he had a black eye. People stepped on him.”

 

     “All right, son,” Roy acknowledged. “Thank you.”

 

     Roy squeezed Johnny’s hand a final time and said, “We’ll have you outta here just as soon as we can, partner.”

 

     “I’ll...I’ll hold...hold you to that,” came the muffled response.

 

     Roy did his best to tease in return, “I’m sure you will.”

 

     The captain let go of his friend’s hand, and headed toward the engine with his son.  Roy contacted Hank Stanley, told him Johnny had been found, and requested that paramedics be sent to his location. Hank acknowledged Roy’s request with a, “10-4, Engine 26.”

 

     Roy placed John on the engine’s passenger seat.

 

     “I need you to be a big boy for me and wait right here until I come back. Can you do that?”

 

     “Yes,” John nodded his head.  Sometimes it was hard for him to sit in one place for long, but John knew by the look on his father’s face that the man was counting on him to obey. “I’ll wait here.”

 

     “Good boy. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

     “Don’t worry ‘bout me, Daddy. Just get Uncle Johnny out of there, ‘kay? He took care of me when it was so scary. Now you’ll take care of him, right?”

 

     “You bet I will,” Roy promised.

 

     The captain patted his son on the knee, then shut the passenger side door.  The truck was close enough that John could watch what was going on, and that Roy could keep an eye on the cab to make sure John remained in it. 

 

     A man wearing a dust-covered tuxedo ran up to Roy and introduced himself as the owner of the circus.

 

     “What can we do to help?” Jack asked, as circus employees dressed in everything from clown costumes, to tights, to tutus, to glittering vests, to band uniforms, milled behind him.

 

     “First of all, I need to know how many of your people might be trapped in there.”

 

     “Just one, we think.  The elephant trainer, Bhagi.”  Jack pointed to a white-faced clown who was wearing a gigantic red and white polka dot bow tie, along with oversized plaid pants that were being held up by suspenders. “Pat saw Bhagi go in the tent, but hasn’t seen him since it fell. As near as we can tell at this time, all the other performers got out.”

 

     Roy looked at Pat Langford. “How about the audience? Did all of them get out?”

 

     “I think so.  I was trying to keep people calm and direct them to the exits.  The last few had just run by me when the tent started to fall. I didn’t see anyone left behind.”

 

     “There was someone left behind, all right,” Roy assured Jack and Pat.

 

     “Someone from the audience?” Jack questioned.

 

     “Yeah.” Roy pointed to the area where Johnny was. “Our department’s paramedic instructor, John Gage, was here today with my youngest son.”

 

     Jack Benton visibly blanched.  He had already been envisioning the lawsuits that were going to result from today’s fiasco, but at least up until this point he wasn’t aware of any potential serious injuries, other that what Bhagi may have incurred.  Now the words of this fire department captain changed all of that.

 

     “Chief Gage was able to get my son out from underneath the tent wall before it fell,” Roy went on to say, “but we know he’s trapped under a fallen stand of bleachers in this vicinity.”

 

     The experienced circus man in Jack Benton took over. “All right.  Then the first thing we need to do is lift the tent.”

 

     “That would be a big help if you can manage it.”

 

     “We can,” Jack assured. Ironically, it was the elephants that normally aided in raising the tent, but there were other means to go about it if necessary.

 

     “Once that much is done, we’ll clear the boards away until we reach Johnny, and anyone else who might be trapped.  It would help if some of your people walked along the perimeter and called out, then listened for anyone answering them. For right now, that’s the best way we have of determining who besides Johnny and your trainer might be in there.”

 

     “All right.”

 

     Jack turned and began giving instructions. A large group of men ran to get the hooked poles they’d need to lift the tent, while some of the women began circling it while calling, “Is anyone in there?  Can you hear me?  Does anyone need help?”

 

     “What about the elephants?” Roy asked. “Have they been contained?”

 

     “I don’t know.  We haven’t found them yet.”

 

     The male half of the Russian acrobat team, Rurik, said, “I saw Pat’s daughter and Kristof looking for them.”

 

     This was the first Pat Langford had heard of where Heather was.  All he’d known until this moment, was that Heather had been helping her mother and Marie Russell in the popcorn booth, and Jay was helping Jolene and Juliana, meaning Pat had been fairly certain his family was safe.  Now that certainty evaporated into worry for his twelve-year-old.

 

     “I have the police looking for the elephants, too,” Jack said.

 

“All right.”

 

Jack hollered instructions to his employees, while Roy pulled his handie talkie from a pocket of his turnout coat. He let the units making up the search and rescue team know that the elephants might still be a factor, then let them know that at least two men were trapped in the debris.  Before he could contact Hank Stanley and apprise him of the situation, the man was at his elbow.

 

“Whatta ya’ got, Roy?”

 

Roy brought Hank up-to-date on what was occurring.

 

“The owner of the circus is a guy named Jack Benton. His people are getting the tools they need to lift this tent for us.”

 

“Good. And Johnny?”

 

“We’ve found him.” Roy nodded to where Don McWinters and Tom Weiss were crouched at the edge of the destruction talking to Johnny in an attempt to keep him conscious, as well as reassured that they’d have him out soon. “He was able to tell me his back, ribs, and head hurt, but until we get him out, we won’t know the extent of his injuries.”

 

“All right.” Hank looked toward the parking lot.  “We’ve been lucky so far. Most of the injuries have been minor. Cuts, bruises, a few sprained ankles, some asthma attacks, one broken wrist that happened when a woman fell in the parking lot while running for her car, and numerous cases of hysteria, especially among the kids.” 

 

“I bet,” Roy said, as he envisioned what the scene inside that tent must have been like. “Speaking of the kids, are any missing?”

 

“The police are still trying to get a handle on that, but at this time, no. So far, no one – adult or child - has been reported missing.”

 

     “Good.” Roy stared at the massive tent. “Let’s hope it stays that way. I don’t wanna find any surprises under there.”

 

     “Me neither, pal. Me neither.”

 

     Hank patted Roy on the arm. “Listen, I’m going back to the command post. Keep me updated.”

 

     “I will.”

 

     “And let me know when you get John out.  If you need the Flight for Life chopper--”

 

     “I’ll let you know,” Roy interrupted. He hadn’t allowed Hank to finish that sentence, because Roy didn’t want to entertain the notion that Johnny’s injuries might be serious enough to warrant such a mode of transportation. 

 

     Hank patted Roy’s arm again before jogging toward the command center. For just a moment, Roy allowed himself to bask in nostalgia as his mind wandered back to the years he’d called Hank Stanley, “Cap,” and had worked out of Station 51 with Johnny.  Because Roy was a practical man, he didn’t long to turn back the clock, yet he’d readily admit that his years spent working as a paramedic alongside John Gage were amongst the best and happiest of his life.

 

     Roy’s paramedics arrived at the tent as Hank was leaving. Roy asked Brett to look at the cut on John’s head while the rescue efforts got underway. Brett took John’s vital signs, checked the reaction of his pupils to the penlight, asked him a few simple questions like his name and age, then cleaned and bandaged the cut. He contacted Rampart, before reporting to Roy that John appeared to be fine.

 

“Even so,” Brett said, “due to the combination of the head wound and his young age, Rampart advises we transport him, Cap.”

 

Roy nodded. He’d expected that request. “We’ll transport John at the same time we transport Johnny. I might send John to Rampart in your squad, and have you call my wife when you get there, if you don’t mind.”

 

“No,” Brett assured, feeling honored that Roy would make such a request of him. “I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.”

 

The young man assumed Roy knew he might not be able to leave the scene, and also assumed Roy didn’t want his son upset by having to ride in an ambulance with the injured John Gage. 

 

Roy was impressed with the way the circus employees worked together like a well-rehearsed team. In that respect, they reminded him of the way firemen worked together to accomplish a common goal. But he supposed that at least in one way, the lives of the circus performers and firefighters were similar. They lived with and labored along side their co-workers for long stretches of time, and to an extent, became an isolated community all their own.

 

Forty men hoisting forty hooked poles thrust the heavy canvas tent in the air.  The hooks extended as long as fifty feet, and operated similar to a prosthetic hand.  By squeezing a handle like the one used on a chalking gun, the men were able to open the rounded hooks, close them, and clamp them onto the canvas.   

 

As soon as the tent was raised enough so the firefighters could get under it, the heart of the search and rescue operation began. Rurik stood in the center of the tent with a hook.  He had it thrust into the tent’s roof, and was keeping the structure supported in the way the pole that had fallen had done.  The tent was only twenty feet above their heads, as opposed to its original height of forty-seven feet, but twenty feet was more than enough for now.

 

 Other than boards missing here and there that the elephants had torn off, most of the bleachers were still intact, making it easy to search for victims. It was only the section Johnny and John had been under that had collapsed as a result of the center support pole falling on it. Roy assisted in removing the five-foot long boards, while repeatedly cautioning anyone who got in a hurry to slow down.

 

“We don’t wanna cause an internal collapse.”

 

The men silently acknowledged Roy was correct. The last thing John Gage needed were more boards showering down upon him.

 

Before they reached Johnny, another body was found. Roy held his breath when he first caught sight of a patch of thick dark hair, but within seconds, he knew the victim wasn’t Johnny, unless Johnny had taken to wearing a brocaded vest and pantaloons.

 

Brett stepped in and attempted to get a pulse on the man.  When he couldn’t, he looked at Roy and shook his head. 

 

Roy nodded his understanding. Based on the location of the heavy support pole, and the way the back of the elephant trainer’s skull was caved in, the captain surmised the pole had hit the man as it fell.

 

Brett and three firemen lifted the body and carried it to the center of the tent.  They laid it in a Stokes, and then Brett covered it with a yellow blanket.  Roy reported this first casualty to Hank Stanley via his handie talkie.

 

“Looks like the missing elephant trainer Mr. Benton told me about, Chief.”

 

“10-4, Engine 26.  I’ll have dispatch call for the coroner.”

 

“10-4.”

 

“Did you get to Johnny yet, Roy?”’

 

“Not yet, but we’re working on it.”

 

Roy heard Hank Stanley’s final “10-4,” then shoved his handie talkie back in his coat pocket. He looked up as the tent roof swayed.  At first he was concerned it was coming down on top of them, but then realized that the men outside were using ropes to tie it off to stakes. That wouldn’t relieve the inside support man of his duties, but it would take some of the tent’s weight off of his arms. 

 

The pile of boards began to grow smaller. Tom Weiss yelled, “I can see his feet!” when they finally got the stack dwindled enough that Johnny was no longer completely covered. It was then that Roy saw what had kept the man from suffocating, and why Roy’s words of caution had been voiced for good reason.  A set of boards had formed a crude tepee over Johnny, and other boards held them in place at their base. This stroke of luck had kept weight off the man’s torso, which in turn allowed him to breathe.

 

Boards were passed from hand to hand until more of Johnny was uncovered.  Roy moved forward, being careful as he stepped over the piles of lumber they hadn’t touched yet.  When there was enough room for the paramedics to work, Roy called for Brett and his partner, Craig Iverson.

 

Roy crouched beside his friend and laid a light hand on his shoulder.  “Johnny, you still with me?”

 

“Ye...yeah,” came the quiet response.

 

Johnny was prone in the dirt. The left side of his face was visible, as were his arms.  By their position above his head, and the cuts and bruises covering them, Roy surmised Johnny had used his arms to protect his head when the bleachers collapsed. Nonetheless, his hair was matted with blood, and his shirt collar soaked with it. 

 

Roy hovered close by as the paramedics assessed Johnny’s condition.  It was hard for him to resist offering assistance, but that was no longer his job, nor was he currently certified to do so.  Roy was vaguely aware of Station 18’s captain instructing men to continue removing boards so they could make certain there were no other victims in the rubble. Roy’s engine crew and three men from Station 36 resumed removing the boards surrounding Johnny. They wanted Brett and Craig to have as much room to work as they needed.

 

Craig took Johnny’s vital signs. He relayed them to Rampart, and then told Dixie, “The patient is Chief Gage.”

 

There was a moment of hesitation on the head nurse’s part, then Craig heard her, “10-4, 26,” before she broke the connection to summon Kelly Brackett. 

 

While Craig stayed in contact with Rampart, Brett asked Johnny where he was hurt, and if he could remember how he’d gotten his injuries.

 

     Johnny’s voice was etched with pain and was half its normal strength when he told his former student, “I...I fell.”

 

Brett put a pressure bandage on the back of Johnny’s head and secured it. “You mean you fell through the bleachers?”

 

“No...the crowd...they panicked.  I...I picked up John.  Everyone...they were all runnin’...makin’ things worse...’n I tripped. I couldn’t...‘cause of the people I couldn’t...couldn’t get back up.” Johnny grimaced when Brett explored his rib cage. “I laid on top of...top of John while they ran by.  I final...finally got us close enough to the bleachers that we could...could crawl under.”

 

When Brett used his scissors to cut Johnny’s shirt open, Roy saw the truth to his friend’s words. Bruises covered the man’s back, some in the shape of shoe prints.

 

“Did you lose consciousness at all, Chief?”

 

“No. No...I don’t think so.”  Johnny’s left eye searched what limited area he could see as Brett asked Mac to hand him the backboard and a C-collar.  “Roy...John? Where’s John?”

 

“He’s fine,” Roy assured.  “He’s sitting in the cab of the engine.”

 

“He’s...he’s okay?”

 

“Yeah, Johnny, he’s okay.”

 

“Sorry...sorry I sent...sent him out by himself.”

 

“Well, I’m not sorry. Now quit talking, and do whatever Brett and Craig tell you to. They’re good at what they do.”

 

“You’re damn...damn right they are. I taught ‘em...taught ‘em every...everything they know.”

 

Roy smiled and patted his friend on the leg.  If nothing else, Johnny asserting his sense of humor was a good sign.

 

After Brett had the C-collar in place, he removed Johnny’s tennis shoes and socks, and then asked the man to move his hands and feet. Roy was relieved to see Johnny was able to respond to those commands.

 

Brett pulled a Bic pen out of his shirt pocket and poked the pointed end into the sole of Johnny’s right foot.

 

“Can you feel that, Chief?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How about now?” Brett asked, as he moved the pen.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

The process was repeated with the left foot, and again, Brett got affirmative answers to his inquiries. He then alternated pressing the pointed end of the cap into Johnny’s feet, with the smooth side of the cap.  Each time this was done, Johnny was able to tell the difference between what sensation was sharp, versus what was dull. He was also correctly able to identify what toes Brett pressed the pointed end of the cap into.

 

Brett looked at Roy and Craig. 

 

“Okay, let’s get him on the backboard.”

 

Roy helped his paramedics put log roll Johnny onto the backboard. The man cried out at the movement, but whether the pain was coming from his back or ribs, Roy didn’t know.

 

Once Johnny was facing the tent’s roof, Brett ran one end of his penlight up the sole of Johnny’s right foot, and then did the same to his left. The man’s toes curled, which was again, a good sign.  Any other reaction, or lack thereof, could indicate spinal cord damage.

 

“Negative Babinski,” Craig relayed to Rampart.  He listened to Brackett’s response, then asked, “Any tingling or numbness, Chief?”

 

“No. My right leg gave out on me, but it feels...feels okay now.  Hurts when I move my foot, though.”

 

“Hurts how?”

 

“Just...just a pain shootin’ from my lower...lower back to my heel.”

 

“All right. I’ll make sure Doctor Brackett knows that.”

 

Craig relayed the latest information to Doctor Brackett, then told the man they were ready to transport.

 

“10-4, 26,” Kelly Brackett acknowledged. “Transport as soon as possible. We’ll be waiting for him.” 

 

Brett secured Johnny to the backboard, and then covered him with a yellow blanket.  With help from Tom and Mac, the paramedics and Roy carried the backboard to a gurney that an ambulance attendant had just pushed into the tent.  Craig started the IV of Ringers Lactate that Doctor Brackett had ordered for the patient, then he and Brett gathered up their equipment, along with Johnny’s shoes and socks. 

 

“You ride in with him,” Brett said to Craig. “I’m gonna bring Cap’s son in the squad.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You don’t need to do that,” a voice instructed.

 

Roy and the paramedics turned to see Hank Stanley standing behind them, along with the captain of Station 26’s C-shift, Paul Richards.

 

“Roy, you’re relieved of duty as of right now,” Hank said. “Go ahead and ride in the ambulance with John and Johnny.”

 

“But--”

 

“No buts. Richards here has volunteered to finish out your shift.”

 

Roy didn’t know if someone had called Paul and alerted him of the situation, or if Paul had heard the calls go out over his police scanner. Captain Richards was Roy’s age, divorced, and had no children.  It was a well-known fact that the man’s life revolved around the fire department, which was the reason attributed to the break-up of his brief marriage.

 

“Go on, Roy,” Paul urged. “I’ll take over for ya’.  All I was doing was sittin’ around my apartment trying to find something on T.V. besides golf.”

 

“Working is better than golf, huh?” Roy questioned with a smile.

 

“You damn well better believe it is.”

 

“Everything’s under control here, Roy,” Hank said. “We’re transporting the last of the victims now. All we need to do is finish searching the section of bleachers where 18’s crew is working. There’re plenty of us on hand to do that. You go ahead and ride in with Johnny.”

 

“All right. If you’re sure.”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Thanks, Chief.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Hank crouched by the gurney a moment before it was rolled out of the tent.

 

“How ya’ doin’, pal?”

 

Johnny couldn’t move his head because of the C-collar. His eyes slid to the right until he could see part of Hank’s face.

 

“I’m...I’m okay, Cap...Chief.  Be...be better when they take this stupid C-collar off.”

 

 “You leave it on for now.”

 

Johnny wiggled his hands beneath the blanket. The gurney’s straps around his wrists limited his movements. “Don’t think I have much choice.”

 

“Doesn’t look that way.” 

 

Hank gave Johnny’s shoulder a light squeeze, then stood and stepped out of the way.

 

While the ambulance attendant and Craig wheeled the gurney out, Roy ran to the engine. He was proud of the young boy who had behaved so well during this long ordeal. John was still seated in the passenger side of the cab, his eyes attentively following all of the activity going on around him.  He opened the door when he saw Roy running toward him.

 

“Was that Uncle Johnny those guys just took outta there on that bed?”

 

“It’s called a gurney, and yeah, that was Uncle Johnny, rascal.”

 

John couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in his eyes.  “Is he hurt real bad?”

 

Roy knew lying to his son would only make things worse later on if Johnny’s injuries proved to be serious.

 

“I don’t know, John. We won’t have any answers about that until after Doctor Brackett has seen Uncle Johnny.” Roy gave his son’s nose a tweak, and wiped at the boy’s tears with his thumbs. “But your uncle Johnny is one a tough guy, so don’t you worry.”

 

Roy took off his helmet and turnout coat, and hung them on the thick hook behind his seat. Roy swung John into his arms, closed the cab’s door, and jogged to the waiting ambulance.

 

“We get to ride with Uncle Johnny?”

 

“We sure do.”

 

“Can I talk to him?”

 

“You can say hello, but then you have to sit with me on the bench.  We can’t get in Craig’s way. It’s his job to take care of Uncle Johnny until we get to Rampart, and we don’t want him telling Doctor Brackett we interfered, do we?” 

 

John shook his head.  “Uh huh.” He liked Doctor Brackett, but had overheard his father and uncle Johnny say enough about the physician to know that the man didn’t tolerate misbehavior on the part of grown men...and probably wouldn’t tolerate it on the part of little boys, either. 

 

Roy set John on the ambulance’s floor and climbed in behind him.  John was frozen in place. He stared at Johnny, frightened by the sight of the C-collar, the backboard, the medicine running into his uncle Johnny’s arm, and the bruises and dried blood dotting the man’s face.

 

“Go on, John,” Roy urged. “Get in and sit on the bench.”

 

John did as his father ordered.  He sat directly across from Johnny’s head.  Roy set next to his son, as Brett closed the door and gave it two slaps with his palm.

 

Craig took an updated reading of Johnny’s vital signs for Doctor Brackett as the ambulance headed out of the parking lot.  John looked at his father and asked over the sound of the wailing siren, “How come Uncle Johnny won’t look at me?  Is he mad at me?”

 

“No, he’s not mad at you. See that thing he has around his neck?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It’s called a cervical collar.  He can’t move his head or neck while he’s wearing it.”

 

“Why does he have to wear it?”

 

“It’s just a precaution in case he hurt his back or neck when the bleachers fell on him. The collar will keep him from hurting himself further.”

 

“Oh. Is he gonna have to wear it all the time now?”

 

Roy smiled. “No. Only until Doctor Brackett has the chance to see what Uncle Johnny’s injuries are.”

 

“Can I...can I say hi to Uncle Johnny?”

 

“Sure.” Roy lifted his son off the bench. “Kneel right there by his head, but don’t jostle the gurney.  You say hello, and tell Uncle Johnny you’re fine, then come back and sit by me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

While Craig was relaying Johnny’s vital signs to Doctor Brackett, John knelt by the patient’s head. He spoke loudly so he’d be heard over the siren.

 

“Uncle Johnny?”

 

Johnny opened his eyes and moved them toward the sound.  When John realized the man couldn’t see him, he lifted his butt from his heels and knelt as straight and tall as he could.

 

“Uncle Johnny, can you see me now?”

 

The skin on Johnny’s split lip gave a painful tug as he tried to smile at the boy. “Sure, Little Pally...I...I can see ya’.”

 

“Do your owies hurt a lot?”

 

“Nah. I’ve been hurt...been hurt worse fallin’...fallin’ off my bike.” Johnny’s eyes lifted to the white bandage on the boy’s forehead. “How about yours?”

 

“Nah. I’ve been hurt worse fallin’ off my bike.”

 

Despite the pain it caused him, Johnny smiled again. John never failed to amuse him.

 

“John, come back over here now,” Roy instructed.

 

“I’ll talk to ya’ later, Uncle Johnny. We’ll bring you a present. Whatta ya’ want?”

 

“How...how about that...that lady acrobat from the circus?”

 

John crinkled his nose with distaste. “Why would ya’ want a present like that?”

 

“If you gotta ask, kiddo, then...then you’re not old enough to know.”

 

“That’s right, he’s not.” Roy tried to hide his smile as he shagged John by the back of the shirt and pulled him to the bench.  “And besides, I have a feeling you’re not gonna be up to entertaining any lady acrobats for a while.”

 

“Might be...might be fun to try, though.”

 

Roy smiled and shook his head. There were aspects of John Gage’s personality that would never change, no matter how old he got, or what level of responsibilities came his way.

 

Roy kept his son by his side throughout the rest of the trip to Rampart. Johnny’s vital signs remained strong, and he remained conscious and oriented, which went a long way in relieving the concerns Roy had for the man’s well being. 

 

After the ambulance backed into the bay, Roy made John wait beside him until Johnny’s gurney was unloaded and headed down the hall to a treatment room.  Roy took his son by the hand and they climbed out of the ambulance together. They walked to the nurses’ station so Roy could let Betty know that John needed to have his head wound looked at as soon as a doctor was available.

 

If John hadn’t been with him, Roy would have slipped into the trauma room where Kelly Brackett and Dixie McCall had disappeared with Johnny.  But because Roy couldn’t do that, he used the phone at the nurses’ station and called Joanne.  The phone rang five times, and then the answering machine picked up.  Roy glanced at his watch. It was twenty after six. Considering Joanne was expecting Johnny to arrive with John in the next ten minutes, Roy knew she hadn’t gone too far from home. She was either out in the garage where she worked on some of her craft projects and hadn’t heard the phone ring, or maybe she was next door visiting with the elderly widow who appreciated Joanne’s company now and again. 

 

“Jo, if you didn’t see the news yet, something happened at the circus this afternoon, but John is fine. I’m at Rampart, and have him here with me.  It’s a long story, so I’ll fill you in when I see you. Johnny was hurt, but I don’t know much about his condition yet. I’m gonna need a ride to the station in order to pick up my car. Please come to the emergency room as soon as you get this message.”

 

Roy handed the receiver to his son and said, “Leave your mom a message so she knows you’re okay.”

 

“But you already told her I was okay.”

 

“I know, but she’ll want to hear it from you.”

 

The boy took the receiver and said to the machine, “Mom, I’m fine.  I got a bump on my head, but it doesn’t hurt.  The elephants got loose, and then people started pushin’ and shovin’ and runnin’, and then Uncle Johnny picked me up, only he fell, and then--”

 

Roy took the receiver from his son and said, “We’ll tell you the rest when we see you.  Bye.”

 

John watched as his father hung up the phone.

 

“Hey, what’d you do that for?”

 

“What?”

 

“Took the phone away from me.”

 

“Because you would have run the answering machine out of tape if I hadn’t stopped you.”

 

“Oh. Well, then I’ll tell Mom all about it when she comes to get us.”

 

“I’m sure you will,” Roy agreed, as he steered John toward the men’s room. The boy had started to dance from foot to foot while Roy was on the phone. Roy hadn’t been a father for nineteen years not to know what that indicated.

 

After John made use of the facilities, Roy washed his son’s dirty arms, hands, and face with soap and warm water.  When the pair exited the men’s room a few minutes later, Betty told Roy that Doctor Early was waiting for John in Treatment Room 3.

 

Roy took his son by the hand. He glanced at Treatment Room 2 as they passed by, but no one came out, meaning Roy didn’t get an update on Johnny before taking his son to see Doctor Early.

 

 

Chapter 17

 

     Heather and Kristof searched the grounds until they finally located the renegade elephants. Heather spotted them in a stand of scraggily trees behind the trailer where school was conducted. They’re massive bodies tensed, until they realized who was approaching.  Heather ran to the pachyderms before Kristof could stop her. Though the lion tamer knew the girl had an excellent rapport with the elephants, he didn’t realize the depths of it until he watched them literally circle her within their fold.  They patted her back with their trunks, then Samara pulled her close in what Kristof could only describe as a hug.

 

     The girl was speaking softly to her friends, assuring them that things were going to all right, when half a dozen police officers arrived toting rifles. Right behind them came Jack Benton and Heather’s father.

 

     Kristof knew he was risking his job when he moved to stand in front of the mammals.  He was a rarity amongst men who made their living training circus animals, in that he didn’t believe it was necessary to master the animal through intimidation and abuse. Like Heather, Kristof couldn’t stand the thought of these beautiful creatures being shot for something Bhagi had caused.

 

     “Heather, get away from there,” Pat Langford ordered.

 

     The girl remained where she was, standing between Samara and Madri. She could sense the elephants’ nervousness at the men’s arrival, but she could also sense that they would remain calm as long as she was in their midst.

 

     “No, Daddy, I can’t.”

 

     “Heather--”

 

     The girl ignored her father and looked at Jack Benton.

 

“Please, Mr. Benton, you can’t let the policemen shoot the girls.  They only acted the way they did because of how Bhagi treated them.  See.” Heather stroked one hand over Samara’s side, and her other over Madri’s. “They’re perfectly fine now.”

 

     “That may be so,” Jack agreed, “but we’re without an elephant trainer now, so we have no way to take care of them. Besides, I can’t trust them again. I can’t allow them to perform again.  And you know what that means, Heather. I can’t afford to feed a hay burner. And especially not four hay burners.”

 

     Heather didn’t know what Mr. Benton meant when he said they were without an elephant trainer.  She assumed Bhagi had been fired. It wouldn’t be until later that evening, that Heather would find out from her father that Bhagi had been killed when the tent collapsed.

 

     “I can take care of them until something can be done.”

 

     “I will help her,” Kristof volunteered. “I will take charge of them, Jack.”

 

     “That’s all good and well, Kristof, but I’ve got enough problems as it is. If they go on a rampage again, I’ll have to shut down the circus for good.  Do you know how many people that will put out of a job? Including you, I might add.”

    

     Heather never was certain if the policemen would have shot the elephants on Mr. Benton’s order.  They seemed uncertain as to what to do, considering the girls were quiet.  The only form of restlessness came when they pawed the ground, or swayed back and forth.  Before Mr. Benton had a chance to say what he wanted done to the elephants, a crowd of newspaper reporters, television reporters, and cameramen gathered behind him.

 

     “Oh great,” Heather heard the man mutter.  “This is all I need.”

 

     Questions were thrown at the circus owner.

 

     “Mr. Benton, are you going to have the elephants shot?”

 

     “Mr. Benton, is it true that your elephant trainer was abusing these animals, and that they fled in self-defense?”

 

     “Mr. Benton, are you aware that animal-rights activists are stepping up their campaign to rid all circuses of wild animal acts?”

 

     “Mr. Benton, how many lawsuits do you think you’ll incur because of what happened here today?”

 

     “Mr. Benton--”

 

     Heather soothed the nervous elephants. “Shhhh. Shhhh. It’s okay, girls. It’s all right.”

 

     A petite, gray-headed woman wearing round wire-rimmed glasses pushed her way through the throng of reporters. Heather thought she looked like schoolteacher, save for her clothing, which consisted of khaki trousers, a khaki safari shirt, and brown leather boots that rose to her knees.

 

     “Are you Jack Benton?”

 

     “Look, I have no comments at this time.” Benton looked over the gray-headed woman and spoke to all of the reporters. “I’ll schedule a press conference for tomorrow. Right now, I’d like all of you to leave.”

 

     “But, Mr. Benton--”

 

     The gray-headed woman didn’t allow the reporter to finish his question before she interrupted.

 

     “Jack Benton?”

 

     The man sighed. “Yes, I’m Jack Benton. And you are?”

 

     “Lena Polston.”

 

     “Well, Ms. Polston--”

 

     “Mrs. It’s Mrs. Polston.”

 

     “Well, Mrs. Polston, you heard what I told the other reporters. I’ll hold a press conference tomorrow and--”

 

     “I’m not a reporter.”

 

     “Then who are you?”

 

     “My husband and I run a wild life refuge in Kings County.  We spent twenty years in Africa, studying and living amongst the animals native to that continent, while making documentary films. I can help you resolve this problem you have.”

 

     “In what way?”

 

     Mrs. Polston nodded toward the elephants. “I can provide these girls with a good home.”

 

     “I can’t just give them away. Do you know how much money I’ll lose if I do that?”

 

     “Yes, I do. The same amount you’ll lose if you have them shot.”

 

     Jack could see the reporters furiously recording every word Lena Polston was saying.  This situation was going from bad to worse, but in one respect the woman was correct.  Jack didn’t stand to lose any more by giving the elephants to her, than he did by having them shot. 

 

     “How can you afford to support them? Do you know how much four elephants eat?”

 

     The woman smiled. “Yes, Mr. Benton, I know how much four elephants eat. And how much veterinarian care costs for them, and the fact that they may live to be eighty years old. The financial support for my refuge comes from many sources.  Fund raisers. Donations. And financial backing that comes directly from various wild life federations. My husband and I specialize in rehabilitating animals that have performed in circuses and other similar venues.  We can give these girls what they need, and provide them with a good home.”

 

     “Just how did you hear about what they ‘need’?”

 

     Lena didn’t look at Heather. Though they hadn’t been introduced, she had surmised who the girl was. Lena had promised Heather on the phone that she wouldn’t reveal how she’d found out about Samara.  It wasn’t until Lena had arrived at the circus grounds, that she’d learned what had happened from patrons still lingering in the parking lot.  She’d hurried to locate Jack Benton, knowing what the fate of all four elephants would be if he wasn’t offered an alternative.

 

     “I was passing by, saw the commotion, and stopped.  Some people in the parking lot told me what was going on.”

 

     “I see,” Benton said, in a tone that made Heather wonder if he really believed Mrs. Polston or not.

 

     If Mr. Benton did think the woman was lying, he didn’t press her on the issue, which caused Heather to breathe an internal sigh of relief.

 

     “All right, let’s go to my office and talk. God knows I don’t need any more bad press than I’m already going to reap from this day. But the elephants have to be gone as soon as possible. By ‘as soon as possible’ I mean sometime tomorrow if it can be done.  We’re scheduled to pull out of here on Monday.  I’m canceling tomorrow’s show.  Whether we’ll leave on Monday or Tuesday, I don’t know yet.  A lot depends on what the police...and my lawyer, tell me I have to do in order to rectify the mess that occurred here today.”

 

     “I can take them tomorrow,” the woman agreed. “I’ll have to get some people to help, so it’ll be late in the day before I arrive, but I can do it.”

 

     “Good enough.”

 

     Mrs. Polston winked at Heather before turning to follow Jack Benton. The girl felt so grown up when Mr. Benton called over his shoulder, “Heather, I expect you to take care of those elephants until Mrs. Polston comes for them.”

 

     “I will!”

 

     The news people followed Jack Benton until he entered his trailer with Lena Polston. When they could see he wasn’t going to grant any of them an interview, they spread out, looking for others to give them their stories.

 

     The police officers disbursed, too, and Heather could see some of the fire trucks going by on the road.  She laid her head against Samara’s side and gave the animal a kiss. She looked at Kristof and smiled.

 

     “We did it, Kristof. We did it!”

 

     Pat folded his arms over his chest. “You did what?”

 

     The girl swallowed. In all the excitement over Lena Polston’s arrival, Heather had forgotten his presence.

 

     “Uh...um...we--”

 

     “Why we found the elephants, of course,” Kristof said. “Heather and I located the elephants, and Mr. Benton did not let the police shoot them, and now that woman will give them a home, so this is good, is it not, Pat?”

 

     “Yes,” Pat gave a slow nod. “Yes, it’s good.”

 

     The man wasn’t so foolish as to think Lena Polston’s appearance was a coincidence, but he wasn’t going to ask any questions, either.  For the sake of his job security, the less said the better, as far as Pat was concerned.

 

     “Dad, are Mom and Jay all right?”

 

     “They’re fine.” Pat waved a hand at Heather’s new charges. “You take care of your elephants, and then go to the trailer when you’re finished.  Mom is cooking supper. I’m going to help the men clean up as much of the mess as we can yet tonight.”

 

     “Okay.”

 

     Pat headed toward the Big Top with Kristof following him.  Heather knew this was Kristof’s way of telling her that she didn’t need him to help her, and that, if only for a little while, she was Jack Benton’s elephant trainer.

 

     As soon as Heather started walking, the elephants ambled after her. She didn’t want to think of parting with them tomorrow, most especially not with Samara, but for now she wouldn’t dwell on it.  For now, Heather was going to be thankful that she’d found her friend a home where Samara would be well-treated, and allowed to live out her life where she could roam free and never again have to perform before an audience.

 

     Heather reached up and patted the elephant’s trunk. When Samara slipped her trunk in Heather’s hand, Heather grasped it, and the two walked along like that until they came to the elephant compound outside Bhagi’s dark, silent trailer.

 

 

Part 4