Carnival of Dead Girls

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  “It’s okay,” she said, smiling. “I know what it’s like to be angry. I know how it feels to let anger take over, to fuel your entire body, to consume…just don’t let it eat you whole, Marianna.” She stared at me with an odd expression, full of sadness and pleading.

  “I’ll get the bags,” I offered.

  She checked us in while I unloaded our stuff. The hotel was deserted, two lone vehicles parked near the entrance. When she returned with the key, I followed her inside. We were on the top floor, room 301.

  Inside, there were two twin-sized beds, a rickety desk, and a small, old-fashioned tube TV. I set our bags down, immediately heading for the desk. I pulled out my laptop, ready to search everything I could about the Carnival de Arcanorum, as it was supposedly called when it visited Lamison Point.

  Wendi used the bathroom and came back out, taking a seat on the bed. She stared at me, watching me type in the search engine.

  “What?” I raised my eyebrows at her. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I demanded, irritably.

  She just smiled. “When Shelby left for college and Jonathan died, I felt this huge hole in my heart. Sure, she was still my daughter and I’d see her a few times a year while she was on break, but it still hurt like hell. I spent so much of my life focused on my hatred for Flocksdale, but then…when I had a family, everything shifted to them.”

  I closed the laptop, stared at her. She’d been through so much in her life and I never knew how to comfort her.

  “But then you came along, and I found someone…like a daughter and friend all in one…and having you to take care of made me a better person. You’re my best friend, Marianna. My best friend in the whole world.”

  Unable to hold back tears, I ran to her side. We sat on the bed, hugging. Crying.

  “Okay. No more tears,” Wendi finally said, leaning back and looking at me. She swiped a tear from my cheek. “I’m going to go get us something to eat. While I’m gone, I want you to find out every single thing you can. And when I get back, we’ll come up with a plan.”

  “We could just order pizza,” I suggested.

  “Nah. I’m craving a hamburger, aren’t you? All those years of working at McDonald’s got me hooked,” she said, grinning.

  I nodded. A big greasy hamburger did sound good. “Okay. Get my usual.” I typed words in the search engine, barely looking up as she closed the hotel door behind her.

  Chapter

  Forty-Four

  After an hour of searching and finding very little about the carnival that originated from Flocksdale, I stood up to stretch. Glancing at the clock, I suddenly realized how long it had been since Wendi left. What the hell was taking so long?

  I dug my cell phone out of my purse and speed dialed her number. I sat back down in front of the computer, waiting for it to ring.

  I could hear another phone ringing in the bathroom. Oh, shit! She left her phone!

  Groaning, I sauntered into the hotel bathroom, squinting around the room for the phone. There was another door inside, leading to a small attached toilet area.

  The phone was sitting on a stack of clean, white towels. I picked it up, staring at my own missed call on the screen. Swiping the missed alert away, I saw the notes section open. It looked like a letter Wendi was working on…

  I gasped, the words blurring on the phone. I had to grab the handicap bar to steady myself.

  Dear Marianna,

  If you love me as your mother and friend, please do this one thing for me. Call a cab and go home. I’ll meet you there in a few days. And if by some chance I don’t make it back…just please know that I love you, and tell my Shelby I love her. Go to college. Make babies. Live a life. A real life, not one centered on anger and vengeance and obsession. This is the end of Flocksdale. You’ll never have to worry about that place again, I promise. It’s almost over.

  Don’t become me.

  Love you always and forever,

  Wendi Wise

  My hand shook, tears welling up in my eyes. Wendi had gone back to Flocksdale without me. She’d been planning it all along.

  Chapter

  Forty-Five

  Josie

  When I came to, I was in a house…but not the House of Horrors I’d expected. Rather, I was in a rundown, wood-paneled living room in what appeared to be a shotgun house. I was sitting in another chair, but this time I wasn’t strapped in. Grateful for small miracles, I suppose…

  My hands were shaking as I reached up to touch my tender earlobes. Or what was left of them. Uneven strips of flesh were connected to my head, holes for ears but barely any skin or cartilage left attached…

  I tried not to scream, sucking in deep breaths as I viewed my new surroundings. I was alone in the room.

  I started to stand up, but someone wrapped an arm around my neck from behind.

  “Sit still, princess,” growled Pockets in my ear. “Malachi and Joseph are on their way in. They had to deal with another…problem.”

  My heart leapt at the word “problem,” and it was almost like I knew.

  A door behind me opened and I whipped around, watching in horror as the clown carried Rachel’s lifeless body over one shoulder. Joseph and Malachi were behind him.

  This time I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I released an ear-piercing scream.

  Chapter

  Forty-Six

  Pockets silenced me, placing his thick, foul-smelling hands over my mouth and nose. Panicked, I kicked my legs and pulled at his hands, trying to free myself and catch a breath. I watched, my eyes widening in horror, as the crazy clown dropped Rachel’s body in the corner next to a large piece of furniture covered in a tarp.

  Her eyes were closed and her body limp, but suddenly, she let out a soft moan. Pockets released my mouth and I let out a sigh of relief. At least she was still alive!

  But for how long, though? a voice in my head resounded.

  “Why are you doing this?” I whined, staring straight at Joseph. He gripped the gun on his hip, flexing his jaw as he watched me.

  “Look, we’re trying to run a legitimate business here. I don’t know why you’re here, nosing around in my backroom, asking questions about some girl we’ve never heard of…”

  “Your son admitted to killing her,” I hissed. Malachi stood in the shadows, watching us interact, his arms calmly clasped behind his back.

  Joseph looked back at Malachi, and then to Pockets.

  “So, the idiot told ya, did he? Well, I don’t know who’s more stupid, him or you. We were going to rough you up a bit more, send ya packing, but now that you’ve said that…well, you’ve left me no other choice.”

  Joseph unholstered the gun, stuck its barrel in my face. The gun felt like hot ice, burning the tip of my nose with its cold, steel body.

  Speaking of the “idiot,” Evan came racing in. “Dad, Dad…you can’t do this. You can’t kill her…please,” he begged.

  Joseph stared at his son, rolling his eyes in disgust. He didn’t lower the gun. “You brought this upon her, son. You brought this upon all of us. We’re trying to get out of the sex trade, focus on the real money maker—drugs. I’ll never understand why you took that girl, why you jeopardized everything for some stupid little slut.”

  I heard the click of the safety. My eyes shifted crazily, searching for a way out. Some sort of move to get me out of here.

  “Because,” Evan said, “I didn’t do this for that girl—Freya, whatever her name was—I did this for her.” He pointed a shaky finger at me, and we locked eyes. His eyes—they looked so much like my own. And his hair like my natural color…with the muddy, brown shade…but how? How could he be my brother?

  My eyes fixated on Joseph. I said, “I’m your daughter. He wanted to bring me to you.”

  Chapter

  Forty-Seven

  Of all the things Joseph expected to hear, news that I was his daughter certainly wasn’t one of them. He dropped the gun to his side, mouth fallen open, staring at me with a twisted look of c
onfusion and then understanding.

  “I don’t understand it, either,” I said, looking back and forth between son and father.

  “The journals…I read mom’s journals. I’ve known for years, but I never expected to track her down. I found her profile on Facebook. It was that simple. And then I—”

  “Insisted we visit a little, shitty town called Lamison Point,” Malachi growled, stepping out from the shadows. He walked toward Evan, clutching the boy’s shirt.

  “What the fuck? You mean, she’s my—cousin?” Pockets asked disbelievingly. He shook his head back and forth, disgusted. He didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to…

  “How?” I squeaked. They all looked at me, nearly forgetting my presence in the room.

  “My dad was in love with a woman named Brenda Crowley, a woman he sold drugs to and ran around with. Cheated on Mom with,” Evan declared, staring at his dad hatefully. “She always knew. Always…but she didn’t know Brenda got pregnant. She didn’t know about your daughter,” he said, looking at me with a mixture of hate and sadness.

  Pockets was looking from Joseph to Evan, his face contorted in pain. Confusion.

  Malachi was staring at me. “So, you’re not the youngest living descendent of the Garretts then, are ya, Evan?” he asked bitterly, not taking his eyes off mine.

  I stared back, wondering what this meant.

  Joseph looked at me, raised the gun. He pointed it toward Evan’s temple and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter

  Forty-Eight

  Skull fragments and tissue exploded through the air, covering my face and hands. Bits of a tooth embedded in my hand…

  I let out a bloodcurdling scream then jumped up, running for the door.

  Chapter

  Forty-Nine

  The clown was on the case. He grabbed me around my waist, knocking me face first to the ground. My face and chest slammed against the thinly carpeted floor, and then he dragged me across the room, my cheeks on fire from the rug burn.

  I dug my elbows and knees in, trying to slow down the inevitable. But he kept dragging, all the way to Rachel’s crumpled figure on the floor.

  Lying next to her now, I reached out to touch her face. Her face was battered, with bulging bruises on each eye and cheek. “Oh, Rachel…I’m so sorry…”

  She was breathing. I could hear wheezing sounds from her chest. There was still a chance. The clown stood over me, gasping for air as he bent at the waist. His macabre white makeup was dripping from his face, melting away to show a normal-looking man. I kicked out with my left foot, caught him right in the groin. I took off crawling, trying to get up…but then Joseph’s elbow came down over my head, knocking me back down, face first on the putrid-smelling carpet.

  “Do you want to see our newest exhibit?” Malachi asked. He was standing over Evan’s body—what used to be his body. His father didn’t even flinch at his dead son’s corpse.

  Removing the tarp from what appeared to be a tall cabinet, I didn’t know what I was looking at. It was one of those stupid displays, the ones I’d seen in the freak show tent, inside the creepy room of dead things.

  It was half a girl, half a fish. Sort of like…a mermaid. I stared at the bloated eyes and nose, the coral-colored hair floating around her face. Tiny, dead arms curled up in front of her, a begging posture. She was topless, small breasts poking out beneath the array of wild hair. Around her waist was where they’d sewn the large fin on. The handiwork was pathetic.

  The eyes, the hair…I stared at the mermaid’s pouty red lips. “Nooooooo!” I screamed.

  It was Freya.

  Chapter Fifty

  Wendi

  I promised never to lie again, but I suppose that was a lie itself. I had to lie to Marianna. I couldn’t risk losing her, not again. I saw myself within her—a damaged lost soul, cynical as hell and hell-bent on destroying everyone associated with Flocksdale. Everyone who tried to hurt me.

  But I didn’t want her to be like me—so I played the role of a liar. A role I’d played often, and well.

  I’d downloaded the author’s book—the one Josie mentioned to the librarian. The “Bearded Lady” as she was called in the freak show, had included pictures of herself on display at the show. In the background of one photo, I’d see a man. I didn’t know the man, but in a sense, I did.

  He was the spitting image of a man named Jed—a man who went to prison years ago. He was the man who kidnapped me in the limousine.

  With technology these days, it only took me a few minutes to figure out his name and address. Joseph Garrett lived in his father’s old house. And the limousine was still registered in his father’s name: Malachi Jed Garrett. All these years, I’d assumed he’d died in prison, but little did I know, he’d been released a couple years ago due to terminal cancer. His son, Joseph, and Joseph’s children—if he had any—were the last living descendants of the Garretts. And surprise surprise—they were kidnapping young girls again.

  There was a motel in Flocksdale we could have stayed at, but I had to get Marianna as far away from Flocksdale as I could manage without tipping her off. I only hoped that she’d be so busy researching, that it would be hours before she figured out what I was up to.

  Before I went there, I drove to the House of Horrors. It sat silently, almost beautiful with the river glistening as its backdrop. Remnants of a carnival littered the streets surrounding it. But it sat alone, magnificent and awful in its own right. Half the house was scorched, as was the grass around it. Remnants of another botched attempt at destroying it.

  I’d failed then, but I wouldn’t fail now. Evil wasn’t here tonight. The generation of evil had moved on. I drove toward Weston Street, looking for the house with the limo.

  Tonight, the evil was going to end. Once and for all. I’d do whatever it took to put a stop to it, to save future generations of women and their families from the cruel torture inflicted by the Garretts and Flocksdale.

  I parked my car against the curb, grazing bumpers with the limousine. The last time I saw it, I was barely thirteen years old.

  I got out. I was ready.

  Approaching the ugly, dented limo, I ran my hands along its fenders and side panels. This damn car had appeared in so many of my nightmares, and here it sat—lame as could be.

  I will no longer fear the Garretts. I tried to teach them not once, but twice already that they should fear me. Well, this time I wouldn’t leave any survivors. No one would be left to fear me when I was done with these assholes.

  Chapter

  Fifty-One

  Marianna

  I stood in the parking lot of the hotel, staring at the empty parking space where Wendi’s Corolla had been. She’d taken the car, the guns, everything…

  Thinking fast, I ran toward the two other vehicles in the lot. A small two-door Scion was locked tight. But the old pickup wasn’t.

  I wrenched open the door, jumping inside. There weren’t any keys in the ignition. I slammed my palms against the wheel, frustrated.

  I looked everywhere—under the floor mats, on top of the visor, in the ashtray, and under the seats.

  Fuck.

  I shoved the heavy truck door open, nearly tumbling out it was up so high. I slammed the door shut, paced the parking lot. Now what?

  I came back to the truck, leaned against it. I’ll just call a cab, I considered. But that would take forever…

  Or walk. But again, that would take too long. I stared at the stupid, redneck truck. Punched the fender and the fuel door.

  But looking at the truck, I had a strange thought. A memory flashed—my real father, his hands rough with calluses, taking me into the grocery, sticking his keys inside the fuel door.

  I reached out and opened the small circular portal. A key ring full of keys fell out on the ground.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered, sliding in behind the wheel.

  Chapter

  Fifty-Two

  I ripped and roared through the streets of Flocksdale, lookin
g for Wendi’s Corolla or anything to alert me to her whereabouts. The truck was a stick shift, and I had no idea what I was doing. The truck heaved and hoed, jerking forward crazily, and then dying at least ten times.

  The lights to the House of Horrors weren’t lit, and surprisingly there were no other houses on Clemmons Street anymore. I shuddered at the sight of my old home. The place that nearly killed me.

  The people who nearly killed me, I corrected myself.

  Deciding to drive toward Saints Road, I made a left…just as I heard the sound of gunshots being fired.

  “Wendi!” I screamed, pressing my foot down hard on the gas. The truck stalled. Sputtered and died.

  I jumped out, took off running. Following the sounds of gunfire.

  Following the sounds of Wendi Wise.

  Chapter

  Fifty-Three

  Josie

  Rachel was waking up now. I lay on the floor beside her, stroking her hair and cheeks. I wept, rocking back and forth. I was waiting for them to kill us.

  I tried not to look at the modern-day Fiji mermaid behind the glass. I tried to pretend it wasn’t Freya.

  “Where are we?” Rachel whimpered.

  “Shhh. Just rest. Don’t worry,” I stupidly tried to console her.

  “I think with a little more slicing and dicing by Pinner, we can turn you into our very own Elephant Girl! Just think, you won’t have to be in a case. You’ll get a prime-time spot in the very front row of the freak show,” Malachi said, cackling evilly.

  My stomach lurched. I fought the urge to throw up. “And you,” he said, pointing at Rachel, “I still haven’t decided what to do with you. We might just have a little fun with you first, then dump you in the river so your mother doesn’t suspect.”