Page 19 of Runt's Haunted Ride
I watched the three biggest asses in the club—Diesel, Crusher, and Leaper—head toward the midway, their excitement clear despite Fang's warning. The poor bastards had no idea what they were walking into, and a small part of me felt bad for them. Another part, the part that had spent two nights dodging nightmare clowns and living dolls, was relieved that someone else would be dealing with that fresh hell.
Good luck!
"Runt, you're with me," Fang said, clipping his radio to his belt with more force than necessary. "Lodging area. We're keeping an eye on the performers' quarters, making sure nobody breaks in or causes trouble."
"Copy that," I said, following him toward the back section of the carnival.
Thank fuck.
Away from the midway meant away from the clowns, the dolls, the carnies with their magical games. Away from the crowds and the chaos and that goddamn haunting music that had been drilling into my skull for two nights straight.
But as we walked, I felt it again—that oddity. The same mysterious magical force that had been just out of reach that I'd blamed on the music. But the closer I got to the tents and campers of the performers, the more insistent it felt. Like invisible hands were wrapped around my ribcage, trying to drag me toward something specific.
The oddest part was the way it made my gorilla respond. I'd learned a long time ago how to control my animal. The club had seen to that. The last thing they wanted was some prepubescent teen turning into a silverback gorilla and going on a rage fest. This felt different—instinctual, primal, as if it came from my core. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to focus on Fang's broad back ahead of me.
It's probably that damn hocus pocus shit Mortis did. The guy grew eight feet tall, paralyzed people with a snap, and apparently read minds. Of course he could fuck with people. Make them feel things they know aren't real.
I wanted no part of it.
The lodging area was separated from the main carnival by a row of old trees that looked dead despite the autumn season. Their branches twisted at unnatural angles, reaching toward each other like skeletal fingers trying to intertwine. As we passed beneath them, I caught a scent that made my gorilla bristle—the smell of decaying garbage mixed with something sweet and cloying.
"Listen up, here's the layout," Fang said, his tone clipped and professional but with an underlying tension that suggested he was barely holding his temper in check. "Performers' trailers are in the back rows. Tents for overflow and specialty acts are scattered throughout. That big tent in the center is for rehearsals and storage. Our job is to make sure nobody who doesn't belong here gets in, and nothing valuable walks out. Each performer has an ID card if you need to ask for it. It's not rocket science. You got it?"
I nodded, scanning the area. The lodging section was larger than I'd expected, with at least two dozen trailers of varying sizes and conditions. Some looked new and well-maintained, their chrome gleaming under the security lights. Others were rust buckets held together with duct tape and prayers, their windows covered with makeshift curtains or newspaper.
Between the trailers stood tents of different sizes and colors. Most were standard canvas affairs in muted browns and greens, but a few stood out. A purple tent with gold trim that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. A black tent so dark it looked like a hole cut in reality. Set apart from all the others, a deep red tent that made my stomach clench as I looked at it.
"You sure you got it?" Fang's sharp voice cut through my thoughts.
"Yeah, sorry. Just getting my bearings."
"Well, get them faster. We've got a lot of ground to cover." Fang started walking, and I fell into step beside him. "We'll do a full perimeter check first, then settle into a patrol pattern. If you see anything weird, radio it in immediately."
"Define weird," I said, thinking about everything I'd witnessed over the past two nights. "Because my definition of weird has expanded considerably this week."
Fang shot me a look that could have melted steel. "Don't be a smartass. You know what I mean."
We walked in silence for a few minutes, weaving between trailers and tents. The lodging area had a different energy than the midway, thankfully. This place was quieter, more intimate, but somehow more unsettling. It felt like walking through someone's home uninvited, like we were trespassing in a space that didn't want us there.
My enhanced hearing picked up sounds from inside the trailers. Conversations in languages I didn't recognize. Music that sounded like wind chimes mixed with whispers. And underneath it all, a low humming that seemed to come from the ground itself, vibrating up through the soles of my boots.
That red tent kept drawing my attention. Every time I tried to focus on something else, my eyes would drift back to it. The pull was getting stronger, transforming from a gentle tug to an annoying demand. My gorilla was pacing inside my mind, agitated and frustrated, unable to understand why we weren't investigating the source of whatever was calling to us.
Just Mortis fucking with my head,I told myself firmly.Some kind of voodoo compulsion spell or whatever dark magic that freak practices. Stay focused on the job.
"There," Fang said suddenly, pointing toward a cluster of smaller tents near the tree line. "You see that?"
I followed his gaze and saw movement—shadows that seemed to be moving independently of any light source. They flickered and twisted like living things, sliding across the ground and up the sides of the tents in patterns that made my eyes hurt to follow.
"What the hell?" I muttered, blinking and taking a step closer.
"Stop," Fang warned, grabbing my arm. "Don't engage. Not unless we have to."
The shadows continued their strange dance for another minute, then suddenly vanished as if someone had flipped aswitch. The air felt charged with electricity that made the hair on my arms stand up.
"The fuck was that?" Fang released my arm and continued walking. "This whole damn place is wrong. Just wrong."
"I hear that."
