Dignity - a novel - 18. Chapter 18: Don't Give Up

Chapter 18: Don't Give Up

After about 30 minutes of driving, Lincoln has taken us to the beach. Now he's looking for parking, and my eye is caught by the intense orange of the sun as it begins to near the western waters. 'So, this is the ocean?' I think. 'Wish I could see it under different circumstances.'

The street fronting the beach is big – more like a highway – and finally Linc spots a parking space on the other side. He pulls in, and almost immediately jumps out.

As the crosswalk turns green, he latches onto my hand and nearly drags me across the busy street by jogging it quick time.

There is some weird structure, and way out, I can see a Ferris wheel.

"Come on," he says and darts towards a really old and strange building. It has four towers at the corners, and an upside-down ice cream cone roof.

Big and old letters over the glass windows in front read: "MERRY GO-ROUND."

As we get inside, I am blasted with an instantaneous onrush of sights and sounds. Kids scream, calliope music plays, parents with cameras in hand call out "Smile."

There is a whir of circular motion. The antique carousel itself is all movement and light, as animals bob up and down, riding the crest of a frozen wave. The whole platform is a fixed disc turning on a hidden axis, while dim-watt exposed light bulbs trace out fancy-cut mirrors and pained panels.

Lincoln is running ahead of me. I call out, "Where are you going?"

"Here," he calls back.

As I try to follow him, I become aware of an old man. He watches us with hostility and suspicion.

Lincoln is clearly tracking a path around the merry-go-round, and as I trail him and his brisk pace, my attention is simultaneously caught by the blur and activity that seems like dizzying commotion on my right, and the calm and stately progress of the building's features on my left. Over on the quiet side, tall windows round off at the top into arches of glass, and exposed wooden posts are painted blue. My eyes follow them to the wooden tent-like roof. At the top of which, a crown of vermillion sunlight streams in from the western edge of the continent's rim. This sunlight is unmoved and detached as it shines down on the lighted and rotating crest of the carnival ride.

And everywhere is music, music, music – it's all so surreal!

I try to focus; focus on what Lincoln is doing. I become aware that he is searching the floor area by the perimeter.

When we've made a full circuit of the building inside, he turns a crestfallen pallor onto my questioning gaze.

"He's not here," he says.

In my head I begin to scream accusations at myself. Maybe I've acted too late – got my head out of my ass too slowly – and we'll never find Jack. If that is true, if that is my new reality, then I will have to swallow down bitter regret for the rest of my life. I come to the point, that like the false gaiety of the motion around me, though the inward momentum may continue, the reasons will be visible to none, maybe not even to me.

All at once, Lincoln's face loses its tension, and a new determination shows through his frustration. "Oh, wait…" he says slowly. "Maybe he's…"

Then Linc grabs my hand, and we start to run.

˚˚˚˚˚

Out along the side of the building is a staircase. Beyond it I can see the beach and the crashing surf. We go down the steps, and Linc turns awkwardly, and begins to scrunch down. He's looking for something in the fence that closes off the supports for the pier from our side on the beach.

Under there is a wilderness of dark pillars, and he finds his way in.

"Come on!" He extends his hand and I slip through to join him.

Under here is creepy.

I look around, and my impression of a wooded area is reinforced, only this is a dank forest with a lid on top. Strangely too, I can still here the carousel music from above.

Linc stops. And there he is. Jack is a shivering mass. He's curled up on the sand in the fetal position, and is about twenty feet ahead.

We both run to him.

Lincoln drops to his knees near Jack's head. He pulls on the trembling boy's upper body and makes him place his head on Linc's upper legs. Then he rips off his own jacket and drapes it on Jack's shoulders and chest.

"Jack?" he calls gently.

He is only semi-conscious.

"Jack!" he says with more force, and I see the sick boy flutter his eyes.

Lincoln tells me, "You can drive, right!"

"Um…learner's permit."

"Good enough. Take my keys and pull the car around to this side of the street so we can load him up."

He fishes them out of his pocket, and tosses a keychain to me.

"Ok," I say, and run.

˚˚˚˚˚

I am so tired and cold, and yet from my icy sleep, I hear someone call my name – at least, I seem to remember being called that at one time.

"Jack, Jack, Jack." There is a light caress on my cheek, and I open my eyes.

Oh shit. It's Lincoln Oliver. I start to cry, convulse really, as if my racking sobs and chilled shivers were from the same source. "No, no, no – I don’t want you to see me like this."

He sputters, " Shoosh."

I tell him, "You need to forget about me."

"You need to stop being a little selfish prick." He kisses me, and his lips are as warm as his tears are salty.

"Lincoln, no…"

"You sweet, sweet little fucker. Fight, damn you. Don’t even think of leaving me alone. Don’t let the Man, and his phony fucked-up world win – you fight! There's no dignity in rolling over and just giving up."

I feel his hand on my cheek again, but its sensation is one of numbness. I am tired. I am so tired, and it just becomes an incredible relief to close my eyes, so I do.

Now there is a sound like a hurricane in a bottle, and my ears sink into static of the kind I'd heard when I descended into deep water.

Lincoln's hand is on my chest. He makes a movement there, and for a fleeting second, I have the brass ring rubbing over my heart.

Lincoln's voice can barely get to me now. I feel like lead shot, and how wonderful it is to let go.

"Fight, come on, for me – fight – just don’t give up…" are the last words I hear, that, and circus music drifting down from above.