by Val Crowe
I snorted. Yeah, great. So, back in Thornford, my friend Wade was a gentleman with this chick named Charlotte, and he got rewarded for that move by getting to become her no-strings-attached fuck buddy. But when I tried to be a gentleman, what happened? Yeah. “I’m guessing they’re not in there anymore,” I muttered. I looked her over. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry they did that to you. I know what that’s like.” Then I turned back to my sandwich. I arranged some sliced ham on it and then put another piece of bread on top. I took a bite.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “And you did smash those phones, didn’t you? And you also put the lock on the gate.”
I chewed, shrugging. I swallowed. “What if I did?”
“Why?” she said. “Why would you do that?”
“Because we came here for answers,” I said. “And we haven’t gotten them yet. Don’t you want to know what happened to Molly?”
She bit down on her lip. “Well… Oscar’s dead. I mean, nothing’s that important to know.”
“Who knows?” I said. “Maybe the thing that killed your sister is still here. Maybe you can kill it. Maybe that’s what she needs to move on, to be at peace.”
“You said that spirits were just echoes of traumatic events. You said there wasn’t any moving on.”
I shrugged again. “I don’t know anything, really. But I’ve seen spirits dissipate when they take care of unfinished business, so it’s all theoretically possible.” I ate another bite of my sandwich.
“I think you should… let me tie you up or something,” she said. “I think you’re dangerous. And I don’t think we can trust you. Somehow, because you’re sensitive to the spirits here, they’re influencing you. Did you kill Oscar?”
“No.” It came out forcefully. “Of course I would never kill anyone.”
She surveyed me.
“Let’s go find your sister’s ghost,” I said. “Come with me to the roller coaster.”
“I don’t think I should go with you anywhere.”
I chuckled. “Oh, come on, Lily. Don’t you want to find out what happened to Molly? Don’t you want to solve the mystery?”
* * *
It was not exactly easy getting Lily to come with me back into the park, because she was struggling a lot.
I was stronger than she was, though, and I managed to drag her along with me for most of the way. When she decided she would stop walking and that she didn’t care if I pulled her over the hard asphalt, I picked her up and slung her over my shoulder.
She beat on my back with her fists and screamed her head off.
There was no one to hear her.
She was a tiny little thing, but I wasn’t exactly used to carrying around another hundred and fifteen pounds or whatever she weighed, so when we got to the roller coaster, I dumped her onto the ground and panted, wiping sweat off my brow.
I wasn’t even really sure what I was going to do with her.
It was only that I couldn’t have everyone else running around the place, screwing everything up. If I could contain them all and get the stupid park to tell me the information I wanted, then this could all be over. Everyone seemed to be working against me, though.
She vaulted up from the ground and launched herself at me, clawing at my face.
I seized her by the shoulders and pushed her away. “Come on, calm down, Lily,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You think you haven’t hurt me already, dragging me around this place like you have?” Her eyes were wild and she was struggling to get at me, even though I was holding her at arms’ length and my reach was farther than hers.
This was not cool. I was tired, and I needed to figure out something to do with her.
But suddenly, she went slack, her eyes widening as they focused on something over my shoulder.
“What?” I said, turning to see what she was looking at.
A man was stalking across the path toward us. It was the man from the carousel. The one with the crew cut and the stained undershirt.
Lily’s lips parted. “Daddy?” she whispered.
Great. Now, we had the ghost of Lily’s and Patrick’s abusive dad in the mix here too? How did that even work? It must be like me and my mother. Patrick and Lily brought the energy with them, and this place was so powerful that it could manifest their trauma.
“You been a naughty girl, Lily,” said her father, and his voice had a quiet power. He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and sad, and that sadness ripped into me, making me feel ashamed.
This guy was a royal bastard, all right. It was amazing that Patrick and Lily weren’t more screwed up.
Lily was shaking. “No, Daddy. No, you’re dead.”
Her father smiled, but the smile was too wide. One side split up the side of his face, and I saw a glimpse of something there, a caved-in cheekbone, bone protruding through flesh, so much blood.
Lily screamed. She ran.
I muttered some swear words under my breath, turning from the approaching ghost and then back to Lily, who was disappearing around a bend. Man, I did not have the energy to run after her.
The ghost flickered and then he was right in front of me. “Come here, you little shit,” he snarled, reaching for me.
I sidestepped. “Hey, you want to drop the bullshit and tell me about Negus?”
He reached for me again. “You must give, Deacon.”
“Oh, fuck that. Like this whole place hasn’t gotten all juiced up just because I’ve been around,” I said, gesturing in a wide circle. “You always have the sparks to turn on all the lights, huh? To manifest specters that everyone can see? To make bullets that can penetrate skin? I’m giving. I’ve given lots.”
He snatched at me.
I ducked.
And then—screw it—I ran after Lily. They wanted Lily for some reason, apparently. That was why they’d manifested her father, sent him after her. That was probably why I’d brought her out here in the first place. For them. So, fine, whatever, I’d give her back to them.
But I didn’t understand why they hadn’t just continued to possess her.
Wouldn’t that have been easier?
Maybe they wanted me to do it. Maybe that was the giving that I had to do. I had thought that Molly’s ghost was just being a bitch, but it seemed that it was something that the whole park wanted. Whatever. I had come this far, hadn’t I? I had to finish it.
* * *
But I couldn’t find Lily.
I ran around until I came to a fork in the path, one way went to the Tilt-A-Whirl, and another to the Ferris wheel. I stopped and checked behind me. I wasn’t being followed by Lily’s father’s ghost anymore.
I rested my hands on my knees, bending over, and struggled to get my breathing even. I wasn’t used to running this much. Also, I felt… thin in some way, as if the pounding of my heart was about to go through my skin, which was stretched too tight over my muscles and organs.
“Deacon!” It was my mother’s voice.
I steeled myself, expecting a ghost—her stringy hair in her dirty face, calling me names and ready to hurt me. But it was my real mother, older now and looking normal with her hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. There was gray around her temples. She spotted me, and there was such relief in her expression that I could almost feel her love for me, like a physical sensation that surrounded me.
It me hard, and it hurt in a way that I couldn’t quite explain. Because…
I had spent so long convincing myself she never loved me, and now I knew that wasn’t true. But she was still a liar. She was still running from the truth. And I needed to know the truth.
I was angry at her. Angry at her for loving me. If she had hated me, maybe it would be easier. Maybe then it would make sense. I straightened and stalked to intercept her. “What do you want?”
“Where did everyone go?” she said. “I was out looking for you and Patrick to see if I should fix some lunch, and I could
n’t find you anywhere. I’ve been all over the park, and I’ve seen… things.” She swallowed.
I squared my shoulders. “What kind of things? Have you seen yourself? Have you seen Negus inside you? Will you still deny it all?”
She held up both of her hands. “Stop, Deacon. Not now. Not here.” She looked around as if she expected something to leap out of the undergrowth and sink sharp teeth into us.
I grabbed her hands, encircled her wrists, trapping her. “You keep lying to me about it.”
“I didn’t mean to!” she protested. “I swear I didn’t remember. I guess I wouldn’t let myself.” A funny sob came out of the back of her throat. “Deacon, kiddo, let go of me.”
“You remember now?” I growled. I didn’t let go.
“Please, you’re hurting me.” Her voice cracked.
“You remember? Admit it!”
“Let go!”
My nostrils flared.
She flinched. “What’s happened to you?”
“I want information,” I said. “And no one seems to be willing to give it to me, no matter what I do.”
“Where are Patrick and Lily?”
I sucked in breath through my nose.
“Deacon?”
“Tell me about Negus.”
“I don’t know that name,” she said.
“Tell me about what happened.”
“I wanted to help you. I wanted to fix it. I promised you I would fix it.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Deacon, maybe I did always remember. Maybe I just couldn’t face it.” She let out another sob.
I shook. “Stop crying and talk.”
“Let go of me.” Her face was twisting and tears were spilling out over her cheeks, and—
I thrust her aside. I couldn’t stand being the cause of that. Not to her. Not even after everything. She was still my mother, and it was still against all nature to hurt her. “Are you going to tell me?”
“Just let’s find Patrick and Lily and let’s get out of this place,” she said. “Once we’re out of this park, then I’ll tell you everything.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Why does everyone want to leave this park? I’m not leaving here.” I turned on my heel and started up the path toward the Ferris wheel.
CHAPTER TWENTY
But there was nothing at the Ferris wheel. It was covered in vines, and it hadn’t moved in decades. Several of the passenger cars had fallen off and were upended in the tall grass around the thing. They sat there like picked bones on the carcass of this place.
I dug my fingers into my eye sockets.
Everything was buzzing. Maybe it was insects who’d made this place a home. Maybe it was some kind of buzzing power inside the place. I didn’t know. The whole place suddenly seemed overexposed and too bright. It hurt my eyes. It was giving me a headache.
I blinked and there, under the Ferris wheel, something was standing.
It was Lily’s dad, in his crew cut. No, it flickered. Now, it was Jason Wick, smiling at me. “I have ice cream,” he whispered. He raised his hand and crooked his fingers to me.
I turned my head to one side, cracking my neck.
The buzzing was louder.
The figure flickered again. Now, it was the man who had been chasing Molly, carrying his gun. He took aim at me, and the pistol issued through the air with a loud, echoing boom.
I dove to the ground just in time.
The bullet went over my head.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been real. Maybe I could have mind-over-mattered the wound away. Maybe not. I didn’t want to take any chances.
I crawled on my knees.
Now the figure was standing over me, and it was my mother.
Of course it was my mother. Her dark hair was filthy. She pushed it out of her face, her movements clumsy. “Mommy’s hungry.”
“No,” I whimpered, suddenly back there, suddenly trapped in that motorhome—the motorhome where she still lived—so confused that my mother had changed, so hurt and so destroyed, a little boy whose innocence had been ripped away. “Please,” I begged.
She put her foot on my chest and pushed me backward.
I collapsed against the ground, air knocked out of me from the impact.
She was on me right away, hissing as she grabbed my face with both hands, put her nose to mine.
“No,” I said again.
But it was too late now. She was sucking at my essence, and it was all coming out of me, and the world was going blurry and gray.
I screamed and screamed, but it didn’t matter.
I couldn’t fight this.
When she was done, I was barely conscious.
She threw back her head and dragged her hand over her neck and collarbone, sighing in some kind of perverse pleasure. “Giving, Deacon. That’s more like it. You taste….” She groaned. “More giving, Deacon. More of that.” She swayed above me, as if drunk or high or…
I shut my eyes. I was tired.
When I opened them, the ghost of my mother was staggering away.
Only I noticed that she was leaving footprints in the dirt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
A long time later, I managed to get up. I wasn’t sure if I had slept.
Must have.
It was later in the day. Afternoon. The sun was hanging lower in the sky, and it was too yellow. It burnt its image onto my retinas, and it was bright and dull all at once. I retraced my steps back to the place where the path forked, where I had left my mother.
But she wasn’t there anymore.
I considered going down the other fork, toward the Tilt-A-Whirl, but I just went back to the roller coaster.
I found Lily there, sitting in the middle of the path. She was rocking, clutching her knees and humming to herself.
“Lily,” I said, and my voice came out scratchy, as if it hadn’t been used in a while.
She looked up at me.
There was blood spattered all over her face. Her hands were bloody too. So were her clothes.
“What happened, Lily?” I said, eyeing her warily.
She pointed.
I followed the direction of her finger to see that there was a bloody heap of something lying underneath the pirate ship ride. It looked like it was half her father and half my mother. It still had some stringy hair in the front, framing its ruined face, but the rest was a crew cut. It was twitching, and it was bleeding everywhere. Lying next to it was a metal pole, some piece of a ride. It was covered in blood.
“I killed Daddy,” said Lily in a tiny voice. “I didn’t mean to.”
The thing on the ground stretched out a limb—like a spider. It slammed it into the ground. It was getting up.
Lily let out a high-pitched noise.
The thing was up on all fours, but belly up, its head dangling down unnaturally. It turned its eyes on us, but not its head.
“Lily,” I said, holding out my hand to her. “Let’s go.”
She moaned, shaking her head. “I killed him.”
“Lily.”
She looked up at me, lower lip trembling. “Why won’t he stay dead?”
I grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. “Come on.”
We ran.
The thing came after us, surprisingly limber for not looking as though it should even exist. It was mangled and backwards and wrong. And yet it skittered over the ground for us.
What did it want?
I needed to figure this out.
More giving, it had said. It wanted to suck me dry, apparently. That was what they all wanted.
That was what Mads had said!
But then that thought faded, buried. I had to give it something else. I couldn’t let it drain me. There had to be something else it wanted.
Lily tripped, and she went down on the ground, sprawling. She cried out.
I doubled back and tried to take her by the hand.
She resisted, clutching her hands to her chest. She had skinned up her palms.
The t
hing was gaining on us. It scampered over the path. Its head hung down, swinging back and forth like the clapper on a bell, like a uvula in the back of your throat, but it was meat and sinew and bone and hair and it had a face and—
I yanked Lily up by one arm.
She pitched forward, colliding with my chest.
I took a step backward, my balance off.
The thing was less than five feet away. It was grinning.
I struggled to stand, to turn, to run.
And fell.
We both went down on the ground, both of us tangled in each other’s limbs, and I was trying to hold up my arms to ward off that thing, because I could see that it was gearing up to spring on us.
I shut my eyes, bracing for impact.
And then, nothing.
I opened my eyes.
It was gone.
Lily gasped.
* * *
“He was a terrible father,” Lily was saying as we walked through the park, heading back to the roller coaster.
I was only half listening to her. I was still trying to figure out what I could give to the park in exchange for information about Negus. I wasn’t having any brilliant ideas, and it was probably because Lily wouldn’t shut her stupid mouth.
“He hurt my mother,” said Lily. “He used his fists on her. On us, he was less physical. He would lock us in this closet—”
“I’ve heard about this,” I muttered.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing,” I said, sighing. She was determined to talk. What was I going to do about it?
“Anyway, when my mother decided to leave him, I was glad. I was really little back then. I was only five years old when she decided to run, but I remembered what he had done. We never talked about it, though. My mother wouldn’t mention it, and Patrick seemed to be oblivious to the whole thing, and Molly seemed happy enough to pretend it never happened. So, time passed, and he never found us, and I guess… it started to seem like a bad dream. But then we lost Mom. And they found him. They called him in to take us away.”
“I heard this too,” I said, but softly. Probably too softly for her to make out what I said.
