Free Hang Wire by Adam Christopher Page B

Barnett couldn’t, because some of the power that filled Joel, that had seeped into Harrison and driven him to death to feed that power, some of that had seeped into Barnett also. Barnett couldn’t destroy his machines – it wouldn’t let him. Instead, he would separate them, splitting the carnival into component parts, some big, some small. He’d burn through his family fortune to scatter and hide pieces rather than burn the evil that lived inside the machines, inside the monkey with the glowing red eyes. And all the while Barnett would fight it, without knowing what it was that he was struggling against.
    And then it would begin again. Joel would bring it all back together. It would take time, but the circus would be reborn and the carnival would go on.
    In time.

— V —
    AQUATIC PARK, SAN FRANCISCO
TODAY
    “One-two-three, two-two- three.”
    Bob led the tourist around in the sand of Aquatic Park in the hot morning sun. His partner was from Alabama, had a laugh and an accent to die for, and had kept her blue flannel hat on. She burned easily, she said, as he swept her into his arms, leaned her back so far she screamed in delight, blue hat firmly in place, as the others watching from the low tiered seating clapped and whistled. And then the music started, and Bob began to give a dance lesson.
    Bob was a fixture, as much a part of Aquatic Park – at least in the eyes of some – as the squat, curved Maritime Museum, sitting like a cream-iced Art Deco cake farther along the beach. As much a permanent feature of the beachfront and park as the pier that stretched out in the cool water, as the twin fans of concrete tiered seating that many found a restful spot on a hot summer’s day. And today it would be hot, no doubt about it.
    Bob danced, slowly teaching the woman from Alabama. Her name was Julie and her friends catcalled from the tiers, the gang of late-fifties housewives transformed into a group of teenage girls by the sight of their old friend in the arms of a bare-chested, barefooted Adonis, all blond hair and bronzed skin, as he dragged her slowly, slowly around the sand, teaching her to dance. She would be the first of many that day. Bob and his free dance lessons were something to check out, for sure, if you were on vacation in the Bay Area.
    “Is it true you don’t sleep at all, Bob?” asked Julie, her eyes fixed on Bob’s face while Bob spent most of the time watching her feet, keeping his own out of the range of her shuffling steps. He glanced up at her, his eyes as blue as the water, and she smiled. “Because that can’t be right, can it? I mean, ain’t nobody can go without any sleep at all, can they?”
    Bob smiled. There were many stories about him, how the handsome beach bum was a retired champion surfer from Hawaii, had to be, a build like that, his hair long and salted, his stubble just so . He’d made it big back whenever and didn’t need money anymore, and had retired to the beach to teach ballroom in the summer because that’s what he liked to do.
    Or that he was a retired software engineer from Silicon Valley, Cupertino maybe, and he’d hit a certain age and had cashed in his shares, swapping boardrooms and annual keynote speeches down at the Yerba Buena Center for something more important, for swimming and enjoying the summer and for dancing in the sunshine on the beach.
    Or that he didn’t need to sleep; that he’d already slept for twenty years and because that was all you needed over a lifetime, he didn’t need to sleep again, giving him more time for the sea and the surf and the sand, more time for dancing in the sunshine. More time for enjoying life.
    Bob smiled at Julie and her own grin grew. One of those stories was at least partially true. There were others as well, some true, some not. So many, in fact, and Bob had been dancing in the sunshine for so very long that maybe he himself couldn’t quite remember which were real and which were not,..
    “You don’t want to