Nobody Knows Your Secret

by Green, Jeri

  Mad clown.

  That’s what he’d always reminded Hadley of. Not the angry mad, but the Alice’s Wonderland kind of mad-hatter mad, totally off his rocks mad. The wind danced inside the decaying dome. She heard an eerie soft whistling noise echo and bounce off the walls of the tattered head.

  Worse than any scary movie I ever saw, she thought.

  What I wouldn’t give to have a superhero fly in and fix this situation right about now.

  She heard a sharp break.

  Was in a limb?

  Had someone knocked over one of the thousand pieces of junk lying around this place?

  She edged to the exit. It was decision time. Left or right? This was where the paths diverged. One way to the little kids’ area, the other to the teenager rides. She took the path leading to the roller coaster.

  There was debris everywhere. Rusting buildings, trash. She hadn’t realized just how far gone this place was. It was spooky. Graffiti marked the walls of abandoned booths. The place looked like the aftermath of a natural disaster. Empty. Ruined. She strained to hear a noise, any noise, but all she heard was the wind causing the Ferris wheel to groan and creak.

  “Come on, granny,” he said, “let’s get it on.”

  He came from out of nowhere.

  The knife he held to Hadley’s throat was razor-sharp. She strained to see his face. His breath was hot and smelled like all things rotten and putrid. She caught a glimpse of his face. Some kind of sores or a red rash all over his face. Everywhere. His eyes were wild and red. The eyes of a stoked-up addict high on who knew what.

  Hadley tried to remain calm, keep her heart from jumping right out of her throat, and keep her breathing at least 60 miles over the normal speed limit. But it was hard. Her mind was racing. From the second the knife blade touched her, she felt her senses jump into high-speed overdrive.

  She heard the pops and cracks of the old rides settling and arguing with the wind as it pushed against rusty metal hinges and loosely hanging plates. Somewhere, some kind of canopy or flag flopped in the breeze. She heard the ka-flop ping, ka-flop ping. It sounded like a flag and rope hitting a metal flag pole.

  Every nerve was on fire. Every muscle was revved to flee, but she had to remain calm. She had to keep her wits about her. She had to remain still, for now. Not make any sudden moves.

  Her captor was young. That much she’d been able to see. He had on a dirty T- shirt and jeans. His cloth sneakers were filthy. He kept clearing his throat, like he had a hair tickling it.

  Was he trying to stifle a laugh?

  He smelled like a dumpster. Was he wearing clothes that bore the stains of urine and feces? Was he so high that he had not heeded the signals of his body’s biological need to rid itself of its own waste?

  How long had this kid been using? She wondered. No telling.

  Why should she even care? He was going to kill her, wasn’t he?

  Well, not if she could help it.

  “Gimme all the cash you got,” the kid said.

  He was small and wiry, Hadley thought.

  The wiry, scrawny ones are usually the strongest. But maybe not. Depending on what drug he was high on, his body could be devouring itself, eating itself to stay alive. But even then, depending on what he’d pumped into his system, he could be stronger than he looked. Some of that garbage could give him super-human strength. Too many questions. Too many unknowns. Gotta think of something. Gotta think of something fast.

  Those thoughts kept racing in her mind and repeating like the sounds of a drum.

  “Drop that knife!”

  It was Bill. Hadley suddenly felt so weak, she thought she would faint. But she must stand still, very still, if she hoped to get out of this alive. The kid was delusional and psychotic. He was out of his mind.

  “You crazy, man? Drop my gun? Wha’s that red box floating over your head? What’s in the red box? You the boogey man, man?”

  Hadley felt the youth’s fingers twitch. The knife blade nicked her throat.

  Her breath caught. This is what it feels like to die, she thought.

  She looked across at Bill. Fear registered in her brother-in-law’s eyes, too.

  “Over here!” the youth shouted in her ear.

  Where was he taking her?

  They edged towards the bumper cars. Only the frame of the ride remained above their heads. The brightly colored tarps that had once covered the asphalt rectangle that corralled the bumper cars had long rotted away.

  Corroding metal bars crisscrossed above them. The grass was overtaking the asphalt, poking up through the cracks, fighting for sun among the chaotic scattering of dead leaves.

  Here and there, dirty bumper cars stood in the spots where they had been abandoned. Trolley poles drooped over the backs of many of the cars, crushed by the weight of years of neglect. Bright paint and fun logos were faded and peeling. The cars were slowly being devoured by grime and rust. The operator’s box was dented and painted with graffiti. Hadley felt the leaves crush under the soles of her shoes.

  “Get away!” the youth cried. “I said get back!”

  Hadley felt the blade pinch her skin.

  This is it, she thought, closing her eyes while stumbling wherever the boy led.

  “You!” he screamed into her ear.

  She opened her eyes. Was she dreaming? It couldn’t be! A small, dark head popped up from behind a ridiculous giant mushroom trash bin with the head of a cow stuck right in the middle of it. A brown jersey with an oversized mouth opened to receive trash. Over the head, she could just make out the letters, DON’T LITTER! MOO AND TOSS IT HERE.

  It can’t be, she thought. It just can’t be. But it was!

  The small round head moved back slightly, then, it began to pump up and down in a quick, jerky motion. Out from behind the preposterous trash receptacle came a rustle of feathers and a charge as fast as lightning. Sprat, the wild goose, was all over the kid’s head. The young man was startled.

  “Wha’ tha . . .” he sputtered, before dropping the knife.

  He took off running, yelling at the enraged goose.

  Bill gave chase.

  “Elwin!” Bill yelled, “make sure Hadley’s all right.”

  “I’m okay! I’m okay!” Hadley yelled. “Just get that creep, Elwin!”

  Elwin Dollie shook his head, charging down the path Bill and the young man had taken. Hadley rubbed her neck. That was close.

  For an instant, it was strangely quiet. Hadley felt her breathing slow to a more normal rate. She was okay. Rattled, but okay.

  She spied the familiar head peeping out at her from behind a large tree.

  Hadley squatted down. She waited. Sprat came waddling up, slowly towards her.

  “Thanks, my friend,” she whispered. “I owe you big time. You didn’t hurt yourself, did you? I sure hope not.”

  Sprat honked. Hadley remained very still, and the wild goose extended its beak and touched her lips.

  “I love you, too, Sprattie,” she said. “I really do.”

  Hadley stood up.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Bill felt the limbs and briars cut his face and hands as he ran through the woods. The old park was as creepy as heck, but Bill didn’t have time to notice. Bill had caught sight of the guy near the old coaster. The wooden structure had not fared well.

  Two thirds of the paint had worn totally away, exposing the dusky light black of sunburned wood. The side rails were missing on this portion of track that dipped low to the ground and was entangled in weeds and tall grass. The rusting metal rails in the center of the track traced uphill. Higher and higher they rose into the sky.

  The suspect had ducked under this rotting portion of track at the spot before the coaster veered sharply to the right. This part of the track was extremely rickety. Half of the underpinning was gone. Bill prayed as he ducked under the rotting wood that the whole structure would not collapse on top of him.

  Maury flashed before his eyes. He had a fleeting glimpse of Ski
ppy, too.

  Everything he loved was on the line. Bill shook his head, and the visions of his loved ones dissolved before his eyes. He caught a jerky movement up ahead.

  Diving under the wooden underpinning, Bill tore off after his suspect. It was no telling what the kid was on. It used to be that beer and alcohol were the worst things kid’s bought. Now, there were designer drugs that turned them into insane monsters. Bill had witnessed their crazy rages. He did not know why some of those kids’ hearts didn’t explode in their chests.

  They snorted and smoked and shot into their veins all kinds of natural and man-made substances. Depending on what poison they infused into their bodies, they could go without sleep for days. Some of them exhibited truly superhuman abilities. Strong as oxen, faster than cheetahs.

  They were invincible. At least in their own minds.

  And Bill had watched clear-faced adolescents and adults turn into grotesque shadows of their former selves. Scarred with the sores and bruises of meth, tracked with needle marks from heroin and cocaine abuse. It was appalling.

  And the prescription addicts were just as worse.

  Bill sometimes felt like the little Dutch boy, holding his finger in a leaking dam that was just about to break and drown them all in a tide of human misery.

  Right now, he wondered if retirement wouldn’t be a better option than chasing some half-crazed, high addict through the abandoned amusement park.

  But no.

  Bill Winthrop loved what he did. He hated what folks did to themselves and others, but the job of sheriff was what he had been born to do. The jaw muscles in Bill’s jaw clenched tightly. His resolve was stronger than ever.

  He would catch this piece of human trash and put him away.

  Or die trying.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Elwin Dollie listened for any sign of the suspect. He had given chase, running as fast as he could down the path that Bill and the addict had taken. But his foot had become entangled in a root, and Elwin had tumbled forward on his face. It was a hard fall. He couldn’t be sure he had not lost consciousness.

  Elwin’s nose throbbed. He hoped he hadn’t broken it on the uneven paving of the path. This place was a jungle of decay and overgrowth. He thought he heard something near the roller coaster. Elwin ran toward it.

  He was winded from the fall and breathing through his mouth because his nose had started to bleed. He stopped to catch his breath. There was evidence of broken twigs and trampled grass near a low spot where the old roller coaster almost touched the ground. The blackness underneath the rotting wooden hulk looked far from friendly.

  “Shoot,” Elwin muttered, “there’s probably a million snakes under that thing.”

  Elwin hated snakes. He hated lawbreakers more. Wiping his bloody nose on his shirt sleeve, Elwin spat on the ground. It was blood-tinged. The blood from his nose was draining down his throat. Elwin swallowed hard. He looked closely at the opening underneath the coaster, straining to see if any snakes lay coiled nearby.

  “Shoot,” he said, once more.

  He dove into the blackness. Elwin batted at the cobwebs and spider webs that hung down in front of him. The air underneath the coaster had a wet, rotten smell. The dead leaves slid beneath the soles of his shoes. Elwin stumbled under the coaster, glad for the sun on the other side.

  He looked left and right, trying to see a broken twig, a piece of cloth, anything that would direct him to the sheriff. The whole area was a tangle of vines and poison oak. Elwin was faced with a choice. He could charge into the snarl ahead or take a less overgrown route to his right.

  Elwin bolted east. He ran about 150 yards, coming out at what was once a fairy tale house called Mrs. Oblopolopotros. The crumbling structure now reminded Elwin of his worst nightmare. Pickets that once stood tall and vertical were leaning and weathered. A wet ditch filled with trash and debris trailed across the doorway. Vines covering the fairy house looked as if the house itself was fertilizing them. They were tremendous, trailing and intertwining, and poking out of the windows of the collapsing house.

  Here was fun turned to insanity.

  Elwin stood in front of the house, trying to decide whether or not to go in. No birds sang. The wind was deathly still. The sun slid behind a cloud. Daylight blinked from sunny yellow to blue-gray. Elwin heard his heart beating in his ears.

  “El!” Bill called out.

  Elwin followed the sound of Bill’s voice.

  He ran past the Ferris wheel and saw Bill standing over the boy. The youth was cuffed but cursing.

  “How’d you collar ’im?” Elwin asked.

  “I didn’t have to,” Bill said. “He ran right into a hole, over there.”

  Bill pointed to a tangle of weeds on his left.

  “It’s some kind of drainage pit, I guess,” Bill said. “It’s shallow, but deep enough to trip up ’im up. I think the buzzard broke his ankle.”

  “That doesn’t usually stop ’em,” Elwin said.

  “Hit his head on a rock, too. Knocked himself right out.”

  “How we gonna get him outta here?” Elwin asked.

  “You got me,” Bill said. “I was just before seein’ if we had service out here. Grab your cell, and see if you can call up the EMS.”

  It took several hours, but the rescue team arrived, loading the youth on a stretcher. He was carried out of MEGA park and sent to the hospital.

  Maury and Hadley and Beanie were standing beside the giant clown when Bill and Elwin finally exited the park. Maury fell on Bill’s neck.

  “Elwin Dollie,” Beanie said, “they takin’ you to the hospistal, too?”

  “Yes, you are going, Elwin,” Bill said. “Don’t even start to say you’re not.”

  “Elwin!” Maury said. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m all right,” Elwin said.

  “Looks like that Barrymore profile might be ruined, Elwin,” Hadley said.

  “Bill,” Maury said, “are you hurt?”

  “No,” Bill said. “I look like somethin’ the cat drug home, but it’s nothin’ that a good, hot bath won’t fix.”

  “Hadley phoned me,” Maury said. “I’ve been on pins and needles all afternoon.”

  “Ruth’s thinking of pinning a medal on Sprat’s chest,” Hadley said. “Sprat’s the goose that saved me.”

  “She needs to,” said Bill. “Of all the hair-brained things, Hadley, what were you thinking showing up like that?”

  “I wasn’t thinking,” Hadley said.

  “Well, this time your curiosity almost got you killed,” Bill said.

  “I know,” said Hadley. “Thank the good Lord for an angry goose.”

  “Is that the killer guard goose you told me about, honey?” Bill asked Maury.

  “One in the same,” said Maury. “But after today, I think even I have become one of that crazy bird’s fans.”

  “Can I have a medal, too?” Beanie asked.

  “We’ll get you one just like Sprat’s, Bean,” Hadley said.

  “Medals for a goose and a bean,” Beanie said. “Or a bean and a goose.”

  “Either way you want it, Bean,” Hadley said. “I think it’s time we all go home.”

  “Amen,” said Maury.

  “Amen,” said Beanie.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The red-tailed hawk sat majestically on its perch in a large flight pen. Hadley walked by and admired the striking regal air of the raptor.

  “Chester has been exercising you,” Ruth said. “And you have been doing well, old girl.”

  The staff had been monitoring the progress of the bird, making sure she was able to maneuver and fly well. She had passed her pre-release examination of her feet and feathers. Blood had been taken, and all her blood work labs came back within normal limits. Chester has put her through tests of endurance, perching, and live prey-to-prey testing for two successive nights. Ruth told Hadley that if the bird passed tonight’s test, she would be released the next day.

  Hadley f
ound Ruth in the back room taking inventory of the drug supplies.

  “Ruth, would it be okay with you if I asked Skip to come to the hawk release tomorrow? Maury has been worried about him because he spends so much time alone on that land his grandfather left him. I think it would do him some good to be around people for a change if you don’t mind.”

  “You know,” Ruth said, “I think that would be a fine idea. If Skip hadn’t rescued the hawk that day, she would never have been able to fly and survive on her own. I think Skip should be the one to release her back into the wild. He’s a great young man. I see him sometimes at Pixies, but he always seems so busy, I hardly get to say anything more than ‘hello’ to him at the store.”

  “Thanks,” Hadley said. “I’ll call him and let him know if she passes her last test tonight that he can have the honors of releasing her back into the wild. I think he would like because I know how much he loves the woods himself.”

  “Since he found her near his land, maybe he would give us permission to release her there,” Ruth said.

  “That’s a splendid idea,” Hadley said. “I will ask him tonight, and I’ll let you know.”

  The day passed uneventfully. Chester put the hawk to the test of catching her own dinner and once again, she passed with flying colors. Ruth called Hadley and told her that the hawk was scheduled to be released the next day.

  Hadley called Skip.

  “Hey, Skippy,” Hadley said. “It’s your favorite aunt.”

  “You always say that, Auntie H.,” Skip said. “But, I gotta admit. It’s true. What’s up?”

  “They’re releasing your hawk tomorrow. We think that since you found her and brought her to the center, you should be the one who releases her back into her natural habitat.”

  “That sounds great!”

  “She was injured near your place, Skip. What do you think about setting free on your land?”

  “I love the idea.”

  Hadley made plans to meet him at the rescue center in the morning.

  Everything was set for the release. Now, it was time to feed Onus and herself. Hadley stood in her garage opening some cans for her dinner. She didn’t want to send Onus into his can opener frenzy. Juggling the cans, she opened her kitchen door.