“Whatever turns you on, I guess.” Linda tried to picture what the booth would have looked like with children lined up in front, jostling each other as they waited impatiently to buy tickets, coins and crumpled dollar bills clutched in sticky hands, the sounds and smells of the midway assailing and enticing them from all sides, but failed utterly. Nothing of that past remained: instead of the music and clatter of the rides there was the soft, sad sound of wind through branches; instead of the smell of corn dogs and fried onions and cotton candy there was the scent of grass and dirt and dead leaves. She shivered and moved closer to Allan.
“Can we go now?” she asked, and he turned to her, startled.
“What do you mean, go? We only just got here. There’s tons more to see.”
“I just meant can we move on? How many pictures of a ticket booth do you really need?”
“Yeah, okay, I see what you mean.” He dug around inside his bag for a moment and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He studied it, twisting it and glancing round him as if trying to orientate himself. “Okay, we came in about here,” he muttered, looking at the paper, “which means that if we head in that direction”—he pointed—“we should hit the midway. C’mon, let’s go.”
They skirted round the empty booth, Linda casting a backward glance at it as they moved away. The one shutter still in place moved slightly, as if waving at her, and she quickly turned and headed after Allan, who was following a rough path which led deeper into the trees.
“So, are we headed anywhere in particular, or are we just wandering aimlessly?” Linda’s voice sounded harsh in the silence.
“Well, I really want to see some of the midway rides; what’s left of them, anyway. That’s where the real interest is.”
“Interest? You’re kidding me.” Linda waved one hand at the desolation around them. “If there was any interest in this place it wouldn’t be left here to rot. What happened to it, anyway?”
Allan shrugged. “I don’t know. There’re different stories. A big fire in the grand ballroom; that happened when the park was still going, and they had to shut it down for a while, and I think people started drifting away, forgot it was here. And there’s supposed to have been someone who died on one of the rides.”
Linda stopped in her tracks. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“No, of course not.” Allan stared at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Are we here on another one of your ghost hunts?”
“No, we’re not here on a ‘ghost hunt’. Honestly, what do you take me for?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. Remember that house you just had to go to on a certain date, and that place—where was it—where that ghost ship was supposed to appear? Took me two days to get warm again, all so you could think that maybe you saw something. That I didn’t see, in case you forgot.”
Allan shook his head. “Jeez, Linda, would you stop twisting things? All I said was there’s a story about someone dying here on one of the rides. I don’t even know if it’s true. It’s hard to pin down that kind of thing; these places always try to hush it up if they can. If it did happen, it was a long time ago.”
Linda looked around. Trees whispered in the faint breeze; somewhere far off a bird chirped. “Everything here happened a long time ago,” she said flatly. “I’ve never been anywhere so empty.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not that empty.” Allan pointed to their left, and Linda saw a faint glimmer of white. “Lots to see, for those who are interested. Who care.”
“I care,” Linda muttered. “I care about getting the hell out of here and getting on with our holiday.”
“I know. You’ve made that clear. Only—well, we’re here now. Let’s just look around a bit more, okay? Please.”
“Fine. But you owe me, big time.”
Allan, having gained his point, said nothing, but hurried off in the direction of the blur of white they had seen. Linda, after a moment’s hesitation, followed.
As they got closer the shape revealed itself as a large building which had once, no doubt, been impressive, but was now in danger of collapsing in on itself. Two blank windows, like eyes, stared out from under a high roof, and what had once been an overhang running the length of the building’s front had had its supports give way and was now hanging limp against the wall. Beside it was another building in even more desperate shape, a tangle of trees and vines choking collapsed timbers, threatening to drag the whole structure into the ground. Allan whistled.
“This is great.” The camera was out again and he was snapping away. “I’m going to get some brilliant pictures.”
“Of what?”
Allan spared her a quick glance. “What d’you mean?”
“I mean what is it we’re looking at, exactly?”
“Oh. I see.” Allan considered the buildings, then looked at his plan of the park. “I think this one”—he pointed to the more intact of the two buildings—“was the Bumper Car ride, and the other one was the Fun House.”
“Some fun.” Linda looked at the battered building and shivered. “Looks like a good stiff breeze would knock it over.”
“Yeah, I’m lucky I got here before that happened.” Allan headed towards the Bumper Car ride. “I’m gonna take a look inside.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Linda didn’t really want to get any closer to it, but she followed anyway, picking her way through the weeds pushing way up through the cracked ground.
“Only one way to find out,” said Allan, his voice muffled as he pushed his way through an opening where several boards had fallen, in to a section that was leaning—dangerously, Linda thought—to one side. “Oh, man, look at this!”
It took a few moments before Linda’s eyes adjusted to the gloom of the building, which was in stark contrast to the brassy brightness outside. The openings along the sides, which would once have been thronged with onlookers watching the happy mayhem within, were boarded up in places, and in others choked with trees, which stifled the sunlight trying to filter in from without. The floor was covered in dirt and leaves and splintered pieces of wood, and in one corner lay a heap of what looked like broken chairs. Running along the back, across from where they stood, was what had obviously once been a covered gallery: a few shafts of sunlight punched their way through holes in the roof, and cables dangled limp from overhead, the lights they had once supported long gone.
Allan was picking his way carefully across the floor, pausing every now and then to take a picture. “Jeez, I’d love to find some of the cars,” Linda heard him say. “Wonder what happened to them. Oh, hey, look at this!”
“What?” Linda had only moved a couple of feet away from where they had entered, and was reluctant to advance any further; the building looked anything but stable.
“There’s a hole in the floor here; looks like someone cut through with a chainsaw. I can’t really see much . . . hang on a sec.” He fished around inside his bag and pulled out a flashlight, then shone it through the hole. “Nothing but a load of junk,” he said, disappointed. “Hey, what the . . . ” He moved suddenly to his left, trying to angle the flashlight as if to see better, and there was a cracking sound from beneath his feet. He scrambled backward as Linda retreated to the side of the building.
“Allan, for heaven’s sake, come away from there. That floor’s probably rotted through. If you fall in there you could kill yourself.”
“No, it’s okay, just something shifting. All right, all right”—as Linda opened her mouth to protest—“I’m coming back. Nothing much more to see in here anyway.”
“What was down there?”
“I told you; just a load of junk, dead leaves, that sort of thing.”
“I thought you saw something else.”
“No, just shadows, that’s all.” They were back outside, and Linda breathed a bit more freely now that they were on safe ground. “C’mon, I want to check out the Fun House.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Linda glanced at the dilapidated buil
ding beside them. “It makes that last one look like a prize home exhibit.”
Allan said nothing, but walked away around the front of the Fun House, past a rusting, peeling iron rail that led up a concrete slope to where the entrance had apparently been. There was a wire cage beside it half-obscured by trees, and Allan pointed to it.
“That would have been where the ticket guy sat, probably; look, you can see the exit sign on the other side of it. Looks like they had another fire here.” Out came the camera. “I’m just going to walk round, see if I can get a better shot.” Before Linda could say anything, Allan disappeared around the corner.
Linda ran her eyes over the front of the building. The entrance looked almost passable, but the exit was covered with boards clumsily stacked against it. One was slightly askew, as if someone had tried to get in that way, and all showed signs of scorching.
Too bad the whole thing didn’t go up, thought Linda. Would’ve been an improvement.
There was a sound behind her, off in the trees, as of a branch snapping. She whirled round, peering into the undergrowth. Nothing moved. “Allan?” she called, rather faintly; then, more loudly, “Allan? Where are you?”
No answer. Damn, she hoped he hadn’t found a way in. The place was ready to collapse. “Allan!” she called, anger giving an edge to her voice. “Allan, come back here!”
Still nothing. She turned and looked again at the undergrowth, and as she did so caught, out of the corner of her eye, movement inside the wire cage by the Fun House entrance. She swung her head back towards it and could see, between the trees, a figure inside it, half-crouched down as if looking for something. Or trying to hide.
“Allan! Allan, this isn’t funny. It may have been a Fun House once, but that’s no reason to . . . ”
“Who’re you talking to?”
Linda spun round. Allan had come up behind her, from the passage between the Fun House and the Bumper Car building. “Is there someone here?”
“No, I . . . ” Linda looked back at the wire cage. The trees shifted in the wind, almost as if obliging her, and she could see that it was empty. “I thought there was someone in there, that you were playing a joke.”
“Not me. The only way to get in there is from inside the building, and I can’t find any way in that looks safe.” He sounded regretful. “Got some good pictures, though.”
“Oh, well, as long as you’ve got some good pictures then everything’s okay, isn’t it?”
“What’s wrong?” Allan sounded genuinely puzzled.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m just getting tired of poking around old buildings that should’ve been pulled down years ago, that’s all. Like that abandoned factory two months ago, where I got that gash on my knee. Thought I was going to need stitches.”
“Well, you didn’t, did you?” pointed out Allan, in a reasonable tone that set Linda’s teeth on edge. “Okay, c’mon, let’s see what else we can find.”
“More abandoned buildings, probably. Thrilling. Let’s face it: you’ve seen one, you’ve pretty much seen them all.”
“I guess.” Allan didn’t sound convinced. “But there’s more here than just empty buildings; there’s lots of rides still on the site. One site I found said that there’s a Tumble Bug ride somewhere; there are only four in existence still.”
Linda stared at him. “You know, I’ve been trailing after you to places like this for three years now, but you never cease to amaze me. You’re thirty-two, for God’s sake. Shouldn’t you have grown out of this sort of thing? Going around looking at all this shit that no one except you and a handful of other people care about? Children’s rides! Why?”
“Because—well, because I like it, that’s why!” He shook his head. “What’s not to like? It’s all a part of our past, and it’s disappearing, and unless people like me find it, see it, photograph it, it’ll be as if it never existed; it’ll just be pictures in books that no one looks at.” He gestured at the expanse of greenery around them, the forlorn buildings behind them. “This used to be an amusement park; and not just that, it was the midway, the heart of the whole place. Can’t you picture it the way it would have been fifty years ago, with kids, families, music playing, the smell of fried onions, the sound of the rides? All those children, almost sick with excitement at the thought of a day at White Lake Park? All the happiness that was here once? Someone has to remember it, otherwise it might as well never have been.”
Linda started to say something, but was stopped by the look on Allan’s face. He looked like a big kid himself; in the car, on the drive out to the park, his face had worn the expression of a child anticipating a major treat. She sighed instead, and made a You win gesture with her hands. “I don’t want to be here all day, Allan, okay? It’s too hot, and this place gives me the creeps.”
“Yeah, what was it that spooked you so much back there?” Allan gestured at the Fun House.
“I told you; I thought I saw someone in that wire cage thing.” She recalled something else. “And before that I thought I heard someone in the bushes over there.” She pointed.
“Really?” Glad to be back on neutral territory, Allan took a few steps in that direction. “Over here?”
“Yeah. Look, it was probably just the wind or a squirrel or something. Forget it.”
“No, hang on a minute. . . . ” Allan moved away through the trees, and it did not take many steps before he appeared to be swallowed up. Linda waited for a moment, staring intently at where he had vanished. Suddenly she heard a choked cry, followed by a short laugh. “Hey, Linda, come here. I found your intruder.”
“What? Allan, this isn’t funny.”
“No, honest.” He reappeared between the trees. “Come look.”
She followed him into the undergrowth, peering nervously around her. Allan motioned to a dense clump of maple saplings. “Come and see.” Gingerly she stepped forward, and parted the lower branches; then jumped backward with a screech.
A face was leering at her: livid and fierce, vivid reds and too-pale whites. It took a moment for her to register what it was, and when she did she turned on Allan in anger.
“You bastard! You knew I’d jump, that it’d scare me half to death. Jerk.”
It was a wooden sign, in the shape of a clown. Out of the garish red mouth came a speech balloon, inside which were the words YOU MUST BE THIS TALL TO RIDE THIS RIDE. One of the clown’s arms had obviously indicated the height requirement, but it had vanished; only a jagged stump bleeding splinters remained.
Allan raised his arms in a would-be placating gesture. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it would make you jump like that. Startled me, too; but look.” He pointed further into the trees, and Linda unwillingly looked in that direction, her heart still pounding. She could vaguely make out, in the undergrowth, metal shapes, trees growing through and around them.
“What is it?”
Allan had set off in the direction of the shapes. “I think it’s the—yeah, it’s the Flying Cages!” he called over his shoulder. “Man, I’ve never seen one of these rides; read about them, though. Used to be in the touring carnivals that went round the county fairs and things, but you don’t see them anymore.”
When she got closer, Linda wondered why anyone had bothered in the first place. The ride seemed to consist of four large metal cages, each one originally a different colour, although the paintwork had faded and chipped away, leaving only a few traces on the metalwork. One of the cars still had remnants of pale blue cloth trailing from the sides, and Allan nodded.
“That would have been where the cages were padded,” he said. He went up to the nearest one and gave it a push. There was a harsh squealing noise and the cage began to move slightly, and Allan gave it another, harder push. It rocked back and forth for a few moments, the framework which supported it groaning in protest at the unexpected movement. After a few moments its movements stilled and it came to rest once more, and there was silence.
“Wow, it still works. This one, anyway.”
“Is that all it did? Swung back and forth?”
“I think so. Like I said, I’ve never actually seen one before.”
“Guess those really were simpler times.”
“Oh, c’mon, Linda. A lot of rides look pretty tame from the ground, but when you’re in ’em they’re terrifying. That whole loss of control thing. I mean, imagine being in one of these, it’s swinging back and forth, higher and higher, faster and faster, and there’s music playing, and you’re bouncing from side to side, trying not to lose your balance, watching the ground come at you, people screaming, yelling . . . it’s a real rush.”
“I’ll take your word for it. That kind of thing never appealed much to me. I like to keep my feet on the ground. Even when I was a kid I didn’t like to . . . hey, are you listening?”
Allan had turned his head suddenly, and was gazing back the way they had come. When Linda repeated her question he turned back to her with a start, as if only just remembering she were there.
“Did you hear that?” he asked, puzzled.
“What? I didn’t hear anything.”
“I heard—well, I thought I heard music.”
“Music?” Linda stared at him. “No, I didn’t hear any music. Maybe someone’s car stereo turned up, or music from a nearby house.”
“No.” Allan shook his head. “It almost sounded like . . . I don’t know, like old-fashioned calliope music.” When Linda looked puzzled, he said impatiently, “You know, like on a carousel. A merry-go-round.”
“Nope. Didn’t hear anything like that.” She gave a short laugh. “What a pair; I see things, you hear things. Maybe it’s time to leave.”
“No. Not yet. There’s too much more I want to see.”
Linda glanced at her watch, then at the sun overhead. “Okay, Allan. But not too much longer. And no more scares, right?”
“Right.”
They headed back the way they’d come, Linda carefully not looking at where she knew the clown stood. Once back in front of the Fun House they stopped, and Allan looked at his plan.
Northwest Passages Page 10
