“I had a hot dog with extra onions for lunch, so…”
Bunny tutted. “Story of my life.” He looked at the windscreen, which already had a light covering of snow on it. “Tell Cheryl I apologise for making you late for dinner. And, y’know, keep an eye on Diller. He’s a good lad.”
“He is,” said Smithy with a nod.
“Thanks for everything. And take care of yourself too. Don’t get into any scraps you can’t win.”
Smithy looked out the window and nodded. “Yeah. You too. If you want, I can…”
“No,” said Bunny, “you promised you were going home.”
“After I release the mouse.”
Bunny laughed. “Yeah.”
“If you die, I will never forgive you.”
“If I do, I promise to haunt you.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. At really awkward times too. Every time you’re about to get it on with the missus, I’ll be chucking cups in the kitchen.”
“Cock-blocking from beyond the grave. That is so you.”
Bunny held out his hand. “It’s been fun, ye annoying little short-arse.”
“Likewise, you drunken Irish prick.”
They shook and then Bunny stepped out into the snow.
“If my calculations are correct,” said Gabriel, “the entrance to the park is just at the end of this road.”
They trudged on side by side through the snow. No light could be seen except for the faint illumination of a town off in the distance to their right and faraway headlights on the interstate, bouncing off the clouds. It would have been slow going even if Bunny hadn’t been hampered by a gunshot wound to his left buttock. They walked in silence through the darkness. Gabriel checked his gun for the third time.
“Y’know,” said Bunny, “the first time I died was in the snow too.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ah, tis a long story. We don’t have that kind of time.
Gabriel nodded. “Probably not.”
“And to think, as a young fella, I used to bloody love when it snowed. This is Ireland, mind – we could go years without getting a proper snowfall. One time a bad one closed the whole country down – nearly brought down a government.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. Poor old Michael O’Leary never recovered. Got known as the minister for snow. Good Cork man in the wrong place at the wrong time. Kinda know how he feels.”
“It’s not too late to back out of this, you know.”
“I could say the same.”
“This isn’t your fight.”
“Now that’s a fecking shitty thing to say. Those are good kids; I’m not the type to live with the memory of waving them off as they went to meet their doom. I even told Bianca not to punch anybody. Jesus, I really hope she didn’t take that advice. Everyone deserves to get one good shot in.”
Gabriel checked the spare clip he held in the side pocket of his trousers. “You are a strange man, Brother McGarry.”
“I could say the same, Padre.”
They walked on, Bunny swinging the baseball bat in his left hand. “Jesus, I’d say this thing pops a fair old wallop.”
“I sincerely hope you get the chance to find out.”
“You really don’t think we stand a chance here, do you?”
Gabriel shrugged. “No.”
Bunny laughed. “Well, thanks for the inspirational speech, Captain.”
“Sorry,” said Gabriel. “I… I’ve never known the right things to say. I try, but… I guess all that time spent learning the different ways to end a life was when I should have been learning the basics of social interaction.”
“Ah,” said Bunny, with a wave of his hand, “talking is overrated. For what it’s worth, I don’t know if you can ever even out what you’ve done and what you were, but, well, what you did at St Theresa’s, that’s pretty special. It should count for something.”
“Thank you.”
Bunny stopped walking and pointed with the bat. “What in the shitting hell is that?”
Gabriel looked at where he was pointing. “That’s the front gates of the park.”
“What’s that over it?”
Gabriel looked at the outline and memory filled in the blanks. “That’s the – I don’t know what you’d call it – mascot for the Wonderama park? It’s Waldor the Clown.”
“Ara, shit on a shitty stick, I fecking hate clowns.”
“Excuse me?”
“Clowns. Hate them. Creepy bastards.”
“I see.”
“Coulrophobia. It’s a real thing. A proper phobia.”
“Right.”
Bunny turned around in a circle, doing a weird hop on the spot as he did so. “Ahh feck it, feck it, feck it. Fucking hate clowns.”
Bunny put his hands on his knees and started taking deep breaths.
At first, he wasn’t sure what the noise was – it sounded like Father Gabriel might be having some form of attack of his own. Bunny turned around and looked at him. The priest had a weirdly giddy look in his eyes.
“Are you… laughing?”
“Sorry. Sorry,” said the priest, around increasingly high-pitched, wheezing hysterics.
“What in the fecking hell is so funny?”
The priest struggled to regain control of himself, bent double, his whole body shaking now. “Sorry, I…”
Bunny stood up straight and glowered at him. “I’ll tell you what this is, ’tis unprofessional! Man in your position.”
Gabriel straightened himself up and waved an apologetic hand. “I apologise. It’s just, we’re facing near certain death, impossible odds, and… you’re afraid of clowns!”
“I never fecking liked you,” said Bunny, marching off purposefully towards the gates, Gabriel following in his wake.
“I’m sorry, I—”
They both stopped as the lights came on, the park suddenly dazzling in the gloom. Multicoloured arrays of bulbs sprang into life behind the fences, as if someone had turned the entire park on in one go. Bunny stared as the Ferris wheel, carousels, waltzers and all other manner of rides sprang into life.
The two men gawped in disbelief. “You have got to be fecking kidding.”
Despite himself, Bunny jumped as the clown over the gate started to move, its head bobbing up and down hellishly as it laughed.
“Shitting Nora on a lilo!”
With a squeal, the park’s PA system came to life.
“Welcome, fun-seekers, to Wonderama, where dreams come true. I’m your host, Abraham. It seems we have more guests than we expected.”
They looked at each other and then, feeling slightly foolish, Gabriel shouted back, “This is Brother McGarry. He’s just here to make sure the kids get back OK.”
“I’m sorry,” said Abraham, “it’s strictly family only.”
Gabriel looked at Bunny, who held his hand up and took a step forward, clearing his throat theatrically. “You can go fuck yourself, you psycho donkey-gobbler. I’ll go where the feck I like.”
Bunny took a step back as a bullet sliced into the snow a couple of feet in front of him.
“That’s Martin,” responded Abraham. “He says hello. He has a high-powered sniper rifle and a low tolerance for foul language.”
“Yeah, well he can kiss—”
Gabriel stepped in front of Bunny to stop him talking. “Look, you wanted me here – I’m here. Let the kids go with Brother McGarry. This doesn’t need to involve them.”
“Oh no,” said Abraham. “We need them to make sure you really put in your maximum effort for the forthcoming battle. Can’t have you not putting up a good show now, can we? If you want them, you’ll have to come and get them.”
A large spotlight sprang into life and illuminated a rollercoaster at the back of the park. Its cars sat at the apex of one of the ride’s peaks. In the front car, Bunny could make out something – possibly just a pile of coats.
He cupped his hands around his mouth in an effor
t to make his shout somehow carry further. “Are you two alright?”
Through the cold air, Bianca’s voice carried back. “I knocked some asshole out.”
Bunny grinned and turned to Gabriel. “Oh yeah, that’s her, alright. Bloody love that girl!”
“No fighting outside of the ring,” shouted back Gabriel.
Bunny shook his head and muttered, “If there was ever a situation that was the exception to that rule.”
Abraham’s voice, sounding slightly irritated, came over the PA. “I hate to interrupt this reunion, but the park’s two security guards are slowly freezing to death in a shed, not to mention our two guests on the rollercoaster. We should move this along. The rules are very simple: you can retrieve your young friends by getting through the park to reach me. I am, to put it in terms the kids might understand, the big boss at the end of the level.”
“Asshat,” came Bianca’s voice.
Somewhere in the distance, there was a ping of a bullet ricocheting off metal.
“Bianca?” shouted Gabriel.
“She is fine,” replied Abraham. “That was merely a reminder that children should be seen and not heard. Now, before we go any further – you know how I feel about guns. Please drop any you have brought with you.”
There was a moment’s pause where nothing happened.
“Please drop any guns,” repeated Abraham, “or Martin will shoot you where you stand.”
Gabriel took the gun out of his pocket and dropped it on the ground.
“And your friend?”
Bunny shook his head. “You’ve got a fecking sniper,” he roared.
This time the sniper’s shot hit close enough that snow bounced up and hit the leg of Bunny’s jeans.
“I do not like the foul-mouthed Scotsman.”
Gabriel turned and grabbed Bunny. “Don’t. Don’t.”
“The next words he speaks,” continued Abraham, “I assure you will be his last. Has he got a gun?”
Gabriel turned. “No. He’s just a simple priest. He’s only here to escort the children to safety.”
“Very well. I will allow him to come in, merely as I think I will enjoy seeing him die.”
“Likewise,” said Bunny, under his breath.
“We must have trust,” said Abraham, “so I will trust neither of you have any other firearms about your person. I am a very fair man, though, so I will make it simple: the first person on either team who fires a gun, Martin shall end their life. Does that seem fair?”
Bunny spoke under his breath. “Was this prick always this gaga or is it a recent thing?”
Gabriel shushed Bunny and then raised his voice to shout again: “Agreed. Do we get to know who else is playing?”
Abraham’s laugh sounded weirdly robotic due to the distortion from the PA system. “Adam sends his apologies; he is currently observing the Bolivian elections. If the wrong person wins, it will be a brief victory.”
“That’s good for us,” said Gabriel in a hushed voice.
“If not for Bolivia,” replied Bunny.
“But the rest of us are eager to get introduced or reacquainted.”
Gabriel’s face fell. “That is very bad.”
“Jesus,” said Bunny. “If you ever fancy giving the priest thing a rest, you’ve a great future writing them inspirational posters. Y’know, the ones with cats dangling off branches and shite like that.”
“I won’t tell you the names of the five members of the seven who await you,” continued Abraham. “Martin you know, but let’s leave the other four as a fun surprise. Some new faces, some old friends. They are dotted around the park, eager to say hello.”
Gabriel raised his voice again. “And if we win, you will let the two children go?”
“Of course,” came Abraham’s cheerful reply. “I’m not a monster. And unlike some people, I keep my word. Are we clear on the rules? No guns, just fun, fun, fun!”
Gabriel nodded and started to walk towards the gates. As they got closer, the mass of lights became more individual, and Bunny could more clearly see the various rides and attractions. Garish clown faces seemed to leer from every corner. He took a deep breath and tried to focus.
“Excellent!” said Abraham. Another brief squeal from the PA system was followed by a cloyingly cheerful tune. Bunny only had to hear fifteen seconds of it to know he really hated it.
“Alright,” said Gabriel, standing before the open gates. “We should split up.”
“Agreed,” said Bunny.
“I can’t work effectively if I’m trying to protect you.”
“You really do have a way with words, you silver-tongued devil.”
Gabriel pointed. “North or south?”
“What?”
“Do you want to go up the left or right side?”
“I’ll take left.”
“That’s north.”
Gabriel gave a curt nod and then, amidst the falling snow, he went down on one knee and bent his head. “Dear God, I don’t know what plan you have that brought me here, but I pray I can do what is necessary to protect the innocent and to not take another life.”
Bunny nodded and then looked up into the sky. “Howerya, God, Bunny here. I’m also hoping to do that, although – fair warning – I am going to kill any of these pricks that get in my way.”
Gabriel blessed himself, stood and without another word, he moved off to the right.
The PA squealed again. “Let the games begin!”
Chapter Forty-Six
Zoya and Dionne sat before the monitor and watched the two dots on the map. The blue one was Birdie; the green one was – well, it was Father Gabriel’s phone, which they were assuming he still had on his person.
“How far—?” started Dionne.
“About a hundred yards. We should see them soon.”
They watched Birdie’s camera feed in silence. All they could see was near darkness and the suggestion of falling snow.
Zoya and Dionne simultaneously leaned backwards as the monitor sprung into dazzling life.
“What on Earth?” started Dionne.
“You have got to be kidding me!” responded Zoya.
As the camera refocused from dealing with near darkness to an explosion of garish neon light, what they were looking at came into focus.
“It’s a funfair or something,” said Dionne.
“Amusement park,” said Zoya, “at least according to the map. It’s closed though. If we’re to follow the Scooby Doo model for investigation, then they should definitely check out the old caretaker first.”
“What?” ask Dionne.
Zoya tutted. “You really need to brush up on your cartoons, Dionne.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
The picture faded in and out again.
“Is there anything you can do about that?”
Zoya shook her head. “I’ve already boosted the signal as much as I can. We’re pushing my little Birdie past anything she’s done before.”
Birdie wasn’t designed to fly as far as this. They were now in Connecticut; Birdie had passed the point of no return at about the same time as they’d crossed the state border. That meant that whatever happened, Dionne was going to have to get into the old Dodge van the sisters used for transportation and pick Birdie up, as she wasn’t making it home under her own steam.
“That’s them, there.” Zoya pointed up at the screen. Dionne could make out the silhouettes of two figures standing before the gates.
“What are they…?”
Dionne stopped talking as a voice came over the park’s PA system. They listened in silence, Zoya moving Birdie forward just enough to pick up the voices of Bunny and Gabriel too.
Dionne only spoke after Bunny and Gabriel moved towards the gates of the park. “OK, we need to find those kids.”
“Right,” said Zoya, sounding distracted as she typed away. “Oh no, no, no!”
Birdie’s camera feed started to wobble backwards and forwards.
&nbs
p; “What is it? I thought you said she had another forty minutes of juice?”
“I thought she would. I think it’s the snow – it’s gathering on top of her and I can’t… She’s not designed for…”
Zoya gave out a plaintive whine as the picture started to spin around in a sickening blur. There was a brief image of the rapidly approaching ground and then the screen went black.
Zoya held her head in her hands. Dionne placed a consoling hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” said Zoya in a hoarse whisper.
“It’s not your fault,” responded Dionne.
Zoya pushed her keyboard away, hiding her face. “Tell that to Gabriel and the Irishman and those poor kids. They’re on their own now.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Smithy walked around the car one more time, not that anything had changed. He was royally stuck. He’d almost made it too. He’d been trying to get onto the interstate, which had meant the small matter of negotiating the on-ramp. It was covered in snow and was the kind of steep you didn’t normally notice because, normally, it wasn’t an issue. He had taken a calculated risk – only he had miscalculated badly. He’d figured that he needed to take a run-up to build momentum, so that the taxi could make it all the way to the top. But he reckoned he’d been maybe two miles an hour too slow. Which was why he’d stalled a few feet from the summit. And why the car had veered off and wedged itself firmly into the snowbank that had built up at the side of the ramp. One person had already tried to stop and help him, but he’d managed to wave them on. It was only a matter of time before someone else – or worse still, the cops – pulled over to assist.
No problem, we’ll help push your car out of there, sir. Hey, what’s that banging noise from the back?
Smithy took a last look around to check that nobody could see him and then he pressed the button on the remote to pop the trunk.
It opened and for several seconds nothing happened. Smithy was just considering the horrible possibility that something might be wrong when to his relief the kid sat up and looked at him. His hands were tied behind his back and his mouth was gagged.
“Hi,” said Smithy, waving with his right hand, which contained the gun. He’d had a lot of stuff left in the cab since he started driving it; the sports bag containing two handguns and an Uzi, left by Bunny and the padre, wasn’t even the weirdest. That would be the plaster of Paris cast of what Smithy was ninety-five per cent sure was a certain part of a gentleman’s anatomy. He’d told Cheryl about it, and then she’d gone and made it weirder by suggesting that maybe the man had left it there deliberately.
I Have Sinned Page 26
