Darian gives my hand one last squeeze. “Stay away from anybody you see in here.” He runs a thumb across my cheek with his free hand. Then he dashes off to the other side of the park.
Stinging tendrils of terror sprout inside me. But by keeping busy, I feel charged and proactive. I want to get out of here more than ever.
I jump over the top of the counter and begin searching everywhere—under the counters, behind the stuffed animals, and pushing on the walls and every surface. It’s so strange. Even though I know this place doesn’t really exist, it still amazes me at how real everything feels and sounds.
After finding nothing, I hop back over the counter and head toward the next cubicle. A warm breeze swirls around me, bringing with it empty cotton candy wands and popcorn bags. The air is full of the scent of hot dogs and sweets, with an underlying current of old things, something like rust.
Colorful balloons fill the back wall of the next kiosk. Darts are lined up on the counter. I make my way over the ledge, careful to avoid the sharp edges of the darts, and begin searching. The balloons flitter in the wind, making a scratchy sound as they rub against each other.
Tons of old stuffed animals are littered beneath the counter. With a groan, I begin tossing them aside. Dust floats around me, making me cough.
“Desiree…” I hear a man’s soft voice call.
I jump up, nearly knocking my head against the counter, and gasp.
A tall clown stands on the other side of the counter.
He’s dressed in an oversize red and white polka dot costume with large green buttons. His face is painted white with two bright patches of red circles on his cheeks, and a matching giant-sized clown smile painted around his mouth. The clown laughs at my reaction and flicks his long, pointed fingernails up through his hair—which is the strangest hair I’ve ever seen. It’s gelled up in stretched, hard spikes that look like orange flames licking upward.
I keep my gaze focused on his dark, beady eyes while slipping my hand around a dart. Tucking my arm behind my back, I quickly take two giant steps backward. I wedge myself against the wall of balloons so hard one suddenly pops, making me squeal.
“What’s wrong?” asks the clown, pulling a stack of cards out from his back pocket and plunking them down on the counter. “Don’tcha wanna play?” He spreads the cards out, rests his elbows on the counter, and tilts his head up at me grinning. The red paint on his mouth cracks as his lips spread wide.
I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again. “No,” I answer.
Darian said to stay away from anybody I might encounter here, but in this cubicle I’m trapped. The only way out is over the ledge that the eerie clown is now leaning against.
“Why so glum?” asks the clown, his black eyes flicking over me. “Is it because of your folks?” He arches a penciled-in brow.
My breath catches. “What’s it to you?” I snap, narrowing my eyes.
The clown laughs again. “Did ya ever think they could still be alive, little girl?”
Tears spring to my eyes as I remember the blood soaking Mom’s dress—the way the white fabric turned crimson above her heart. I blink my burning eyes. “No, they’re dead.” I grit my teeth, and twist the dart behind my back, thinking about digging it into the clown’s eye as I pass. I wonder how fast I can go—if I can be fast enough.
A tinkling sound draws my attention and something white flutters down from the sky. It lands on the ground in front of me. I squint and notice that it’s a white piece of paper, folded in half. On it is scrolled one word, written in red ink.
Desiree.
I snap my eyes back up to the clown and it doesn’t seem like he’s noticed. He’s still poking at his cards on the counter. In order to get the paper, I have to step forward, within his reach. I wonder who it’s from or if it’s just another hologram meant to trick me into getting closer to the clown. But something about seeing my name on the paper causes goose bumps to rise on my skin.
I need to get it.
The clown taps his nails against the cards in a mesmerizing rhythm, drawing my attention back. “I just wanna play, Desiree…don’tcha wanna play some cards?” he asks.
I can’t take my eyes away from his hands. His yellow nails are long and brittle. They’re shaped into pointed, sharp edges, and as he strums them on the cards, he hums along with the creepy, carnival music.
Then, oddly, the images on the cards begin to swirl. “Why don’t you join my pack,” the clown says between humming. “My pack of cards—it’s fun when we all play together—Rae.”
At the mention of my nickname, I shiver, then watch in horror as my mom’s moving image swirls on the face of one of the cards. Richards slams into the room and shoots her just as the carnival music chimes out, Pop goes the weasel.
The clown laughs hysterically, then stops abruptly. “It’s your fault, Rae,” he says leaning in and curving a painted lip. “But maybe if you join my pack of cards you can stop it this time—prevent their murder. I am a clown after all, don’tcha know…” He scrapes one nail over my father’s dead image on one of the cards, the gritty sound jolting me. “You believe in magic, Rae?”
Fury boils my blood. I’ve never been so angry. Angry for my parent’s murder, for Darian’s folks, too, for what The Protectorate is doing to us—has done to my sister—is doing to everybody in Tower.
Adrenaline takes over. I jump forward, quick as lightning, pushing aside the shooting pain from my broken rib. Grabbing the paper on the ground beneath the ledge, I then hop onto the counter.
The clown darts his head up as if he’s startled and opens his mouth with a shriek. His teeth are black, decaying, and the stench from his mouth is like rotten eggs and something metallic.
I swing the dart toward his head, just nicking him as he jumps backward.
He recovers and lunges forward just as my feet hit the dirt. He grasps my arm, his claw-like fingers digging into my flesh. I scream and try to pull back, but the clown digs his talons deeper.
“I was trying to be nice, don’tcha know, don’tcha know?” he says, grinning. The volume on the creepy, old-time carnival music surges louder. “But I think instead of giving you a chance to save your parents, you should join them.”
The clown drags one nail down the side of my cheek so hard that a trickle of blood runs down my face. He increases his vice grip around my bicep until every nerve in my body screams and warm blood oozes down my arm.
“Darian!” I shriek, but I doubt he can hear me over the music. Lifting my knee, I pound it into the clown’s groin. Then I swing my arm around, sinking the dart into his ear.
The clown releases me and grasps his ear as blood oozes between his pale fingers. I hit the dirt running, pounding my feet into the ground, the creepy music blaring in my ears.
When I reach the Ferris wheel, I don’t hesitate and hop into a bucket, heart pounding, crazed. I’m shaking uncontrollably as I duck down into the seat, waiting every second for the clown to pop its head over the ledge, drag me out, and force me to look at those cards again.
The Ferris wheel shifts around and lifts me high into the air. I open my clenched, trembling fist to look at the now crumpled piece of paper. I pry it apart.
Desiree,
This is Asher. Do exactly as I tell u. Walk Run in different patterns 2 times around the park. Don’t talk or make any other sounds, or give off any different body language. Then sit in the middle of the carnival. No matter what happens 2u, be quiet and do NOTHING or this won’t work. After ten minutes get up and go sprint 2 the carousel. Right in the middle of the carousel on the floor is a trap door. U won’t see the handle for the door—U have to feel for it. Find it fast, open it, climb down, and head to the south exit. You’ll only have three minutes before the fighter bots are released into the Terrorscape. U need to be out of there before they come or this won’t work. Don’t let them get u. HURRY!
Chapter Thirty
Can this really be happening? My mind races as I try to put things toge
ther. Why would Asher want to help me?
I need to find Darian. If he hasn’t found a way to the mother Syncro-Drifter, then we have to take this chance of escape Asher’s offering.
I poke my head over the back of the Ferris wheel as I soar high into the air, searching for Darian or the crazy clown, but don’t spot either of them. Only the eerie melody plays out, mixed with the swirling scents of rust and cotton candy.
The bucket rounds the top and begins revolving backward. I shift my weight, preparing to jump out when I reach the ground. The seat rocks and creaks in protest. I grip the bar.
The closer I get to the bottom, the faster my heart gallops.
The note, Asher, Darian…the clown.
The bucket reaches the ground and I hop out before it swings upward again.
Before I can make it two steps, something yanks me to the side, pulling me into the shadows behind the Ferris wheel.
“Rae,” Darian whispers.
Relieved, I turn to meet his concern-etched face.
“Is it really you?” I ask, smiling.
“Yes, it’s me,” he says, before lifting my arm and inspecting the cuts the clown inflicted.
I cringe and jerk my arm back. “I’m fine. Did you find the exit to the control room?”
Darian shakes his head, a deep scowl forming on his face. “No, but I will find it. I won’t give up.”
I open my hand just enough to reveal the crumpled note. “Asher sent this in the same way the knives came,” I whisper, handing him the note.
Darian raises his eyebrows and slips his hand over mine. He covertly takes the note and hunches over to read it. After scanning, he rips the paper into a hundred tiny pieces, letting them scatter into the breeze like dandelion fluff. He rubs his forehead while sucking in a mouthful of air and releases a heavy sigh.
When I can’t take his silence any longer, I ask, “You don’t think it’s legit?”
Darian twists his lips, thinking. “Well, Asher saw us together at the lake…and you were promised to him…I’ve got good reason to think this could be a trap—but—” He pauses and kisses the scrapes on my face from the clown’s nails. “I guess it’s worth a shot. I don’t want you in here a minute longer than you have to be.” He gives me a fleeting flicker of a smile and lowers his voice. “Asher must want you to run in different patterns so he can create video footage and run it in a loop—allowing us time to escape. If you run in different patterns and stay quiet, it won’t be obvious to anyone watching that it’s repeated footage.” He grins, hope sparking in his brilliant eyes. “Smart. After that, Asher wants us to sit still for ten minutes. That’ll bring in the fighter bots and make the trap doors automatically unlock.”
A sinking feeling hits me that Darian could be right. “What if Asher just wants revenge for what I did and it’s a trap like you said? I did shame him by running off with you. What if there isn’t a way out and he wants to send in the fighter bots to really kill us?”
Darian groans and I drop my gaze to his clenched fists. “There’s a real chance that’s what he’s up to,” he says. “And there’s also a risk that even if Asher’s being honest, that he could make the mistake of sending us to the same exit the fighter bots come in from. But either way, we should—”
“Desiree…” The clown calls out in a singsong voice somewhere in the distance.
My heart rate spikes. “That clown is crazy scary, Darian, holograph or not.”
“I know, believe me. He’s a freak on legs.” He lets out a breath. “But listen, we need to try this. I know I promised you I’d find a way out, and I will.” His coal-black brows draw together. “But it could take months and this could be our only real shot.” He pauses and sighs. “If this is a trap and the fighter bots come and we don’t find the exit—or Asher’s directed us to the same trap door they’re coming from by accident—then I’ll have to kill the bots before they kill us.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “And just how do you plan on doing that?” I whisper in the tiniest voice. “I mean, I know you’re tough—but fighter bots?”
He shrugs and leans in to whisper. “I’ll do it with my bare hands if I have to,” he says, his lips pressing into a hard line.
I don’t have time to argue. The clown’s unnerving voice edges in close behind us.
“Cards, Desiree…don’tcha wanna see your parents again…?”
At the mention of my parents, my stomach does a nosedive and tears sting my eyes. It’s taking everything in me not to think too much about their murders right now…and the clown knows it.
The music changes to another tune that sounds like it’s coming from one of those old-time music boxes, the kind with the spinning ballerina. Like the other creepy music, it plays at a slow, eerie tempo.
“Come on.” Darian slips his hand into mine and we take off running.
We jet around the carnival through so many twists and turns I get dizzy. The words on Asher’s note, along with what Darian said about the video footage being shown on a loop, run through my mind. I force a neutral expression on my face and stay quiet.
We pass glowing neon signs, a circus tent that reads Jugg U Lar Carnival, and a hall of mirrors that make our images transform from two feet to ten feet in seconds. And, through it all, I don’t react. I keep pace with Darian and swallow the fear that’s squeezing my throat from the inside.
Darian dashes in-between the carnival games. I imagine the clown jumping out at me from behind every ledge and every corner, gripping me with his nails and taunting me with his cards.
Finally Darian runs to the middle of the carnival and drops to his knees. His jaw working, eyes wild.
I hit the dirt and scramble up beside him without a word, panic pricking me like needles.
Darian blinks his eyes at me once. I blink back in acknowledgement.
Now we have to wait ten minutes.
We can’t run.
We can’t hide.
We need the officials to see us refusing to interact with their game of terror.
I count the seconds from one to sixty and start over again, trying desperately not to count too fast. If I do, I’ll move too soon and screw everything up.
“Aha!” The clown hollers. He jumps out from behind one of the gaming stalls just feet away. “There ya are!”
A chill runs through me. My gaze drops to his huge purple clown shoes that thud across the dirt as he makes his way closer. My mouth gapes as I glance back up to his hair that looks like it’s on fire, then I meet his piercing stare.
“Two murderers for the price of one.” He eyeballs Darian, and then cocks his head to one side, glaring at me. “Ain’t that grand, Rae? Maybe I’ll letcha both play cards…hang out a little while with the dead…” He throws his head back and lets out a high-pitched laugh, then snaps his gaze on me again. “You wanna see my cards again?” he rasps. “Ya wanna playyy…Rae?”
I close my eyes. Sixty. One, two, three, I count out the seconds in my head. Four more minutes to go. Ignore, ignore.
A whoosh of movement blows my hair back. I reluctantly pry my eyes open. The clown’s grinning face is inches in front of mine. The white paint on his skin is cracking and peeling—his eyes like dots of coal, shoved deep into dark sockets.
It takes everything in me not to scream. He inclines his head closer until he’s a hair’s breadth away, igniting fresh horror in me, then smiles, exposing rotten teeth.
Everything in me shouts to run away, but I can’t react. I can’t move. If I do, the officials won’t send in the fighter bots. And if they don’t send in the fighter bots, the trap door won’t unlock for our escape.
I keep counting as the clown runs his hand over the side of my hair. Darian stiffens beside me. I give a subtle shake of my head, so afraid Darian’s anger will get the better of him and that he’ll hit the clown, ruining everything.
The clown leans in and exhales rancid breath in my face just as the music box melody gets louder and faster all at once, mimicking my heartbe
at. He digs one pointed nail down the trail of scratches he inflicted earlier. “Such a waste of a pretty face, don’tcha know…”
I wince and lock my back teeth together as fresh pain bursts across my skin, but I don’t move or scream.
I feel sick. The whole carnival is a spinning distortion of colors, aromas, and a cacophony of sounds.
We’re not gonna get out. My whole body goes ice cold. I dig my nails into my palms, trying to calm myself.
Fifty-nine, sixty, I finish counting in my head. It’s been ten minutes, I realize with a surge of adrenaline.
I nudge Darian. “Let’s go!”
We jump up, dash around the clown, and begin running. I’m praying I didn’t screw up the timing and that we make it.
A loud horn blares as we race toward the carousel. It sounds like the horn on a transport truck that I’ve seen in the movies from the Manic Age.
I whip my head around, expecting to be smashed by a truck, but there’s not a vehicle anywhere.
“Shit,” Darian yells. “Hurry up!” He grasps my hand and we run faster until we reach the carousel. “That’s the same sound I heard before the fighter bots rushed in the last time.” He jumps onto the spinning merry go round. “Hopefully Asher’s running the video loop now.”
“But wait,” I say, as I rush to the center of the carousel and begin searching for the trap door. “If the officials see us running in that loop now, won’t they stop the fighter bots?”
Darian drops to his knees in the middle of the ride beside me and slides his hands around the steel floor. “Nope,” he says, sounding winded. “That sound means they’ve already programmed the fighter bots to come in. And once that’s set in motion, there’s no stopping it. Besides, they probably figure I’m being my usual defiant self and that now I’m running away from the bots.”
“It’s not here, Darian.” I pound my hand against the floor in frustration. “There’s no trap door—Asher lied!” My words grate against my throat. How could I have believed Asher would help us after my betrayal? I was desperate to even think that was a possibility.
Awakening Page 24
