Page 31 of Property of Scythe
Blood and arterial spray are staining the side of the building, but that’s not what makes me curse. It’s the severed arm lying on the ground. This isn’t a prop.
One look at Phantom’s clean costume, and I know we’ve got a problem. The Art I saw wasn’t my Sergeant at Arms. I know that now.
The Terrifier who found me and Lottie isn’t one of my club brothers or any of the townspeople. Hell, it’s not even a tourist.
This fucking clown is akiller.
Fall is ushering in something dangerous this year. It’s not pumpkins, apples, or hayrides. Or even pop-up scares.
This season is bloody, frightening, and sinister.
It’smurderous.
I need to go back to Lottie. She’s in danger.
Fuck. I never should have left her alone.
Chapter 11 Lottie
It feels like I’ve entered another dimension where fall is the only season and pumpkin-flavored everything dominates the menu. I’ve always loved autumn, and now I’m living in a town where it celebrates all the best aspects almost year-round. If only I didn’t have to stand in line to use the restroom.
After holding my full bladder for over thirty minutes, I finally find an open porta-potty, grateful for the hand sanitizer anchored on the outside and inside of all the toilets. To my surprise, they’re stocked and clean. The smell is unavoidable, but once you’re out in the fresh air again, it’s quickly forgotten.
My stomach rumbles as I head toward the bench where I’m supposed to wait for Scythe. He’s not there, but there’s another biker wearing a Kings of Anarchy vest. I scan it for his name, but I only find PROSPECT. “Hi. Where’s Scythe?”
“He said he’s got some shit, uh, stuff, to handle, so he’ll be back soon. We can do whatever you want while we wait.”
“Okay.” I frown, hoping everything is okay. “I’m starving. What can I find to eat?”
He’s got to know better than me since this isn’t the first time he’s entered the Fear Farm.
“Well, there’s the popcorn vendor. Cotton candy. Hot dogs, corndogs, and fries. Oh, and BBQ.”
“The BBQ. Where is that?”
“I’ll show you.”
I follow the prospect as he winds through the crowd, locating the food vendors opposite the carnival games. No wonder I didn’t see them before now. We never walked this way before the hayride. “What’s your name? It’s weird just to call you a prospect.”
He snickers. “Yeah, not your vibe, huh?” He shrugs. “Until I have a road name and patch in, I’m nobody. But you can call me Chris since that’s the name my mother gave me.”
He’s cheeky. It’s cute.
“Okay, Chris. I’m going to order a lot of food because Scythe never fed me.” I wink as he laughs.
Once I have my order, we find a spot where I can sit and eat. Chris leads me out of the Fear Farm, stating that the only place to sit down is probably the pavilion. He isn’t kidding. The covered structure is massive, and I see it’s half full of other visitors who are having a snack or drinking hot cocoa.
I park my bottom and begin to eat, nearly moaning as I take a bite of the BBQ brisket. “Wow. This is amazing.”
“Scythe invites restaurants to take turns as vendors during the festival each year. The Smokestack is a local favorite.”
“I can see why. It’s juicy, tender, and flavorful.”
“Yeah. One of my favorites, too.”
“You want some?” I ask, shoving the food his way. “I’ll never finish it all.”
“If you’re sure.”
