Page 6 of Runt's Haunted Ride
"Look," the dad swelled up. "It's no big deal. He's just going to be in his stroller."
The ticket seller's demeanor snapped. She seemed taller, with longer arms. Her voice, which was originally welcoming and friendly, now sounded haunted and hollow.
"The innocent aren't allowed to cross our gates." She leaned out of the booth, brought her hands forward, touching each of the parents. "You will go home. You will find a babysitter. You will come back."
I watched their expressions go blank for a moment, then the man nodded slowly.
"Perhaps we should go home," he said in a monotone voice. "We'll get a babysitter and come back."
"Good idea, honey. I'll call my mom in the car," she said, staring straight ahead as they turned and walked back in the direction they came from.
The college girls and I looked at the ticket seller, who was back to her original self. The ticket seller laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Now, ladies, who's ready to have some fun?"
The college ladies cheered as they bounced and clapped, whipping out their money to buy their tickets.
"What the hell was that?" Swinger muttered, appearing at my shoulder. "And what does 'the innocent can't cross our gates' mean?"
"Hell, if I know," I said, watching the couple disappear into the darkness. "This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder."
Chapter 3
An hour into my shift, the carnival had transformed into something that made my gorilla want to roar warnings at every turn. The facade from earlier had melted away, revealing the true nature of the Carnival of Shadows.
Swinger, Bulldog, and I had agreed to call each other if there was a situation we couldn't handle on our own. Splitting up to cover more ground, I spotted them again—the five clowns from earlier. But now they weren't moving as a unit. They'd dispersed through the crowd like predators hunting alone.
The purple-haired one with the scratches caught my attention first. I watched him approach a middle-aged businessman standing with a group who looked like they'd come straight from work. He was fumbling with his wallet at a game booth, clearly having had too much to drink already.
"Having trouble there, friend?" the clown asked, his voice that same sing-song mockery of friendliness I'd heard before. The guy's friends all laughed.
The man looked up into the clown's face, jumped backwards, then joined his friends in laughter.
The clown leaned closely and gestured for them to follow. When they did, he blew something into all of their faces. My gorilla eyes saw a fine, glittering dust that caught the carnival lights. The group immediately stood up straight, their eyes glassy and unblinking.
"There we go," the clown purred. "Now we don't need an audience, do we?" He flicked his fingers at the group and said, "Be gone. Go play another game." Collectively, the group stepped back, everyone walking in different directions. "Not you." The clown grabbed the man's arm. "You stay with me." He plucked the man's watch from his wrist and his wedding ring from his finger, and the man did nothing to stop him. "Doesn't that feel lighter? Now, why don't you come with me, and we can have some fun?"
"Sure," the man muttered. "Fun."
"That's good. I have a treat for you."
"Treats," the glossed-over man said with a goofy smile on his face.
I started toward them but was held back by a noisy group of women all wearing bachelorette party sashes announcing that it was Rachele's party.
This is just what we need,I thought as the group passed.
By the time I could step across, the businessman and the clown were gone.
My radio crackled. "Anyone copy?"
"Yeah, Bulldog. What's up?"
"Runt, you close to the funnel cake stand?"
I looked around. "A couple booths from it."
"Well, get over here."
"I'm on the other side. It will take me a few minutes to get there," Swinger informed us.
