They said she was the one to strike the match. The caravan was still lit up like the forth of July when Benjamin Usher crumpled helplessly in front of it. His brace had been flung off his arm in a fit and the rest of him did little more than slide onto the ground. His legs were a messy tangle beneath him. His spine caved like the charred frame of his home and he bowed before it. There were things that even people like him couldn't predict, it seemed. He didn't scream or curse like the other men around him. He didn't throw buckets of dirt and water onto the sinking ship. Instead, burying his face into the scraggled grass, he let the ants glide across the hot surface of his face and bite at cheeks. His mouth was open in a silent howl, but no sound -- not even breath, came from it.

It was useless. Even Management eventually had everybody clear off and let the fire burn itself out. No use hurting no one else, he said as pushed people back to their own caravans and tents. No one felt safe that night. Everyone watched for the first spark of light. Plugs were double-checked or undone altogether. Once everyone cleared back into their own, Management crouched down to pick up the prone form of Benjamin Usher. Management was broad and muscled. He was often mistaken for the Muscle that erected everything from Big Top to the Ferris wheel with sweat and old tools alone. Perhaps he had been one, once. No one knew his story save for Ada, Ben's mother. As if Ben was a child rather than full grown, he was hoisted up into the thick arms of management and carried across the thin grass to his own caravan. The man was unresponsive. He didn't fight, but he didn't help either. His body was rigid and eyes shut. A broad calloused thumb smeared the dirt off his nose and cheeks. There, there. You just sleep now, Management said as he pulled off the other man's muddied boots and socks. His legs were tucked inside the notch in the wall where a spare mattress had been spread over the platform. He pulled blankets up to Ben's chin and blew sweet smelling smoke into his face until his eyelid grew heavy. With a sigh, eyes rolled to their whites and lids shut down. He would sleep for two days and on the third, receive the final portion of his gift.