by Linda Palmer
Chapter Two
Bingo Land
We toppled into a freefall that went everywhere and nowhere, sort of like tumbleweed in a box. Dizzy and scared, I threw my arms around Matt, who hugged me back as we hurled through space in total silence.
Open the door, step onto the platform, and run like hell.
Yeah, I knew what to do, but my arms and legs wouldn't budge. Was this dying? I wished I'd gone with my gut and ignored that creepy M'jorca. Instead, I'd let him lure me into a coffin. A freakin' coffin.
What was I thinking?
I heard myself giggle, a reaction that made about as much sense as what was happening. But I didn't laugh long. A jarring lurch ended our wild ride. I felt around for Matt, but he wasn't there. Neither was the box, I realized a second later. In fact, I now floated in a cocoon of darkness. Just as my heart kick started into panic mode, another abrupt reality shift resulted in a brilliant flash of light. Blinded, I had to rely on other senses to get my bearings and quickly figured out I was now sitting on something cold and hard. My fingers found metal—a folding chair. Not too far away, I heard corn popping, but I couldn't smell it.
My vision crystallized way too slowly, and even when I could focus, twinkling lights edged everything. I realized that I now sat in a smoke-filled room with cinder block walls. A number of people sat around me, all of us at long plastic tables with Bingo sheets spread before us. Was Matilda playing, too? I quickly scanned the crowd for her, but she wasn't there. Unless…gulp…my psyche had somehow inhabited her body. Horrified at the idea, I looked down at my hands. My right one held a fat purple Bingo marker; my left hand held a smoldering cigarette. And though I would never have held either, the hands were definitely mine, right down to the freckles. Besides, Matilda would be playing under a huge canopy in the open air.
Another horrible idea instantly slammed me. What if she'd finally pushed me over the edge of sanity and into Bingo-parlor purgatory? If anyone could do it, she could. But no. This craziness was M'jorca's doing…if there really was a magician with a disappearing act. Wait…had I even gone to the carnival this evening? I now doubted everything that had happened during the past hour and wondered if I'd lost my mind.
Deep breaths, Leah.
But how could I inhale with smoke burning my lungs as if I'd actually taken a drag on that nasty cigarette? I coughed so hard my ribs hurt. My throat burned like fire.
"O seventy-three."
I knew that voice! Thrilled that I wasn't alone, I shifted my attention to the front of the room where Matt stood on a raised platform. He held a ping-pong ball with something written on it. The popcorn sounds came from a clear box beside him that held more balls, all of them bouncing. Matt sounded really, really bored, the only thing that made any sense in the whole crazy scenario since neither of us could stand Bingo. But how had he landed the job of emcee?
Is this really appropriate?
I startled so badly that I dropped my marker. That voice, which had apparently come from an overhead speaker or something, was very loud, though it sounded oddly timid and not quite human. My stomach knotted in response to it. I peeked at the other Bingo players to gauge their reactions. No one as much as blinked.
We had to put her somewhere while we verified her identity.
A second voice. Just as loud, but much more confident. Was this a private conversation accidentally caught by a mic? I now scanned the place for the speaker boxes that should've been mounted in the corners of the room, but there weren't any. And Matt apparently had dibs on the only microphone.
But wouldn't one of her own memories cause less suspicion?
Voice number three sounded sort of conniving. At least that was the word that popped into my head when I heard it.
It doesn't matter. The moment her identity is confirmed, she'll be harvested.
Voice four terrified me. It reeked of evil, and I didn't like what it had said. Who was she? And what did harvested mean? I couldn't help but fidget as I worried and wondered.
Well…is it her?
I'm checking! Her psychic energy feels different tonight, and she won't be still.
"B three." Matt held up another ball to the monitor to show everyone the number and letter on it. I frantically waved to get his attention. He looked right through me. Was I invisible and crazy?
"You’ve missed one, dear." A blue-haired lady sitting beside me came to life by pointing to one of my Bingo sheets. "You have B three on several of your sheets."
So much for being invisible. Still unsure about crazy, I plopped into my chair, picked up my marker, and dabbed at all the B threes.
"This is sooo weird." I kept my voice low and my gaze everywhere but on the sheets. My surroundings felt solid and real, including Matt. Certainly I was. And the cigarette now singeing my fingers, well, that was way too real.
But how on earth had we gotten out of the box and into the Bingo hall? And what about those four voices? Had they really just threatened me, Leah Baker, the only person who could hear them?
Hoping Matt had answers, I impulsively squashed my cigarette in the smelly ashtray, pushed it far away, and stood again. I turned toward the front of the room, fully intending to shake my friend out of whatever trance he was in and get us both out of limbo. But one step later, I got stuck in midstride, my right arm unnaturally extended like a mannequin in a store window. I felt as brittle as a dead twig. In fact, I had a feeling I'd snap in two if anyone bumped into me. Oddly the Bingo game continued as normal, if that word could even apply, and Matt actually called another number.
Aha!
The voices again.
See the arrangement of spots above her left eye? Cassiopeia. And that is definitely Orion on the back of her hand. It's her, all right.
Then we must proceed with caution.
Yes, the capture will be complicated without her cooperation.
Had that last one really just said capture? Now scared silly, I tried to forget I couldn't move and focused on the words I'd just heard inside my head. Yeah. That's where they had to be, which made the crazy part of my worries more likely than ever.
Time. To. Leave.
But I couldn't. My will hovered somewhere just above my petrified body. Worse, the private conversation I couldn't block out continued, clear as ever.
Who will get this prize?
No one, if he suspects we followed him.
He has no idea.
Are you sure? You know his abilities. What if this is a ploy?
Desperate to end this torture, I closed my eyes and mentally latched onto that last voice, the weakest of the four. I imagined it as a worn out soccer ball, and then visualized myself kicking it into eternity. An image flashed by, ghastly and unidentifiable, yet somehow familiar. The resulting silence inside my head made me weak with relief.
"Rollin' rat tails! We missed everything!"
Matt's colorful words jerked me back to reality. He never cursed because of the little poPs, and hearing his usual alliteration was wonderfully normal. I opened my eyes just as he shoved the door of the coffin back. People were leaving, none of them interested in us. Disoriented and dizzy, I gulped fresh air and tried to get my bearings.
Matt gave me a once over and immediately caught me by my shoulders. "Are you okay? You seem a little...freaked."
"Freaked?" My face burned. My hands shook. My knees wobbled. And with good reason. I studied Matt's expression, noting that he seemed as calm as ever. "Please tell me we just—" I caught myself. Take it slow. Hearing voices was not necessarily something to admit, even to a best friend.
"What?"
"Nothing. I'm okay. Was that supposed to be M'jorca's big trick?"
"Guess so, and a pretty good one, too, if you ask me. He distracted everyone by getting us into the coffin and then disappeared, himself."
"No way."
"Yes way. Didn't you hear the crowd?" Matt stared into my eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"How could I be?" I braked again. Something told
me that Matt's experience had been way different from mine and confiding in him at that moment might make me look silly.
"Come on. Let's get something to drink. It'll make you feel better, and if we hurry, we can get back in time for the next show." He took my hand and turned toward the exit. I instantly dug my heels into the dirt, a move that halted him long enough for me to free my fingers.
"I'm not coming back." I didn’t care at that moment if Matt thought I'd lost it or not. Maybe I had. But as surely as I knew that I was a prisoner of Pringle's, the worst youth home in the entire world, I knew I'd been touched by evil.
And I'd thought Mad Matilda was bad.
Matt's shoulders sagged slightly, but he gave in and said nothing when we left the area. As the rest of our time ticked away that night, my nightmare receded until I actually began to wonder if I'd pulled an Alice and stepped into Wonderland while in that awful box.
Close to the end of our two hours, Matt and I met up with Ashley and Larry near the Ferris wheel. As we talked, I felt someone's gaze boring into the back of my head. A glance around revealed M'jorca, standing in the bright glow of a concession wagon and watching me.
I quickly looked away, but not before I saw his shadow stretch eerily behind him, not matching up with the light source and writhing as if it had a will of its own. He emanated evil, and I couldn't control my shiver as my mind tried to connect him to the four voices inside my head.
Was he a hypnotist, maybe? A hypnotist who'd made me hallucinate the Bingo game from hell? I made myself look M'jorca's way again and saw that his weird shadow was gone even though the lighting was the same.
Suddenly a security lamp high above us flickered and went out, and shadow engulfed us.
Matt turned to Larry with a sigh. "Lights are always going off around Leah. It's really weird."
"She can't wear a watch, either," said Ashley. "They just stop working."
Larry grinned. "No kidding?"
With my heart thumping crazily in my chest, I barely heard. Somehow I found the courage to stare M'jorca down. Those eyes. Those piercing black eyes. I could've sworn I knew them from somewhere and shivered at the thought, frightened once again.
Then anger surged up from deep inside me, blasting my fear.
No. Not anger.
Rage.
Intense rage.
As if he knew, M'jorca slowly smiled.
