Dark Moon (Nightmare Hall) (12 page)

Her legs finally agreed to move, and she began tentatively backing up, yanking first one foot out of the mud, then the other. If she couldn’t see who was there because of the rain, maybe they couldn’t see her too well, either. It was the only hope she had.

That hope died instantly when the voice said,
“And just where do we think we’re going? Where are your manners, Eve? I haven’t dismissed you.”

Eve whirled and began to run.
Tried
to run. Slogging through mud couldn’t be called running, and the wind and the rain were against her. She felt like one of the street mimes she’d seen in San Francisco, pushing against an invisible wall.

As she slogged, her head swiveled from side to side under her hood. Where could she go? Was there someplace safe to hide, until the voice went away?
Would
it go away? Or was it, this time, determined to finish the job it had started in the Mirror Maze?

She couldn’t move quickly, but her mind was racing. Where to hide? Where to find safety? To get back to the dorm, she’d have to run out into the open, giving him a perfect, unprotected target. It was too far, and too dangerous.

The Ferris wheel? Could she hide in one of the seats? No. The red raincoat would be too visible. The Snake? That ride was so dangerous that the front of the wooden seats rose high, to chest level, providing some protection for the rider. And … maybe … if she could make it that far, climb in and slide down in one of the seats behind the wooden shield … She could hide in the seat until she was sure he’d given up and left the carnival grounds. Then she’d make a break for the dorm and safety.

If she could just get to The Snake without being seen.

She slid sideways on the muddy grass, into the shadow of the booths, moving in and out among them stealthily, like a thief in the night.

“Ee-vie! Where are you? I can’t have this, you know. You keep disappearing on me. That’s so rude.”

Good. If he wasn’t lying, trying to trick her, he couldn’t see her now. If she stuck closely to the booths, maybe the shadows would protect her until she reached The Snake.

She slipped and fell twice. The first time, her hat fell off and skidded away. Terrified that he would pounce on her while she was lying helpless in the mud, Eve struggled to her feet and ran, leaving the hat behind. The second time, she lost the flashlight. That was far more serious than losing the hat, and she wasted precious moments fumbling around in the mud with her hands. But the bulb had gone out when the flashlight landed. Trying to find it in the dark would take too long.

“Oh, Ee-vie! Where are you?”
the voice singsonged from a distance.

The sound chilled Eve’s blood. But it
was
from a distance, which meant she still had time. Only minutes, maybe seconds, but she was grateful for that much.

She could see The Snake through the rain now. It lay coiled and silent on its tracks. Hope rose in her throat. It did seem from this distance as if someone lying curled up on one of the seats would be completely hidden behind the high wooden front. She’d be safe there. Until he gave up and left.

“Eve!”
Angry now, that voice.
“Where
are
you? You really are stupid, making me angry. My own mother made me angry, and I killed her. I killed my own mother, Evie! Anger fuels my power. You’re just making me stronger. That’s a really big mistake.”

Power, schmower, Eve thought in disgust, climbing under the rope that barred the entrance to The Snake. You’re a head case, that’s all you are. But a dangerous one, I’ll give you that.

Eve’s barrette was long gone, and her sodden hair clung to her cheeks, dripping rainwater into her eyes. She had to continually brush it aside to see.

There! That last car, at the very end. Its wooden front, decorated with a wicked-looking snake, fangs exposed, painted in bright reds and greens, looked higher than the others. If she could just make it along the wooden platform without being seen, she’d be well hidden in there.

Terrified that she might be spotted, Eve fell to her hands and knees and crawled along the platform, the cold rain pelting down upon her. The surface was slick, and she had to go slowly, for fear of sliding off the edge and landing on the ground underneath the ride.

Where were all those extra security guards the dean had promised? she wondered bitterly as she finally reached the last car. Why was she all alone out here?

“Ee-vie! I’m right behind you!”

Well, not really
alone.

Carefully, struggling to stay as low as possible, Eve grabbed the handles on the last car of The Snake and pulled herself up onto its floor. She lay there, breathing erratically for several minutes before moving up to the seat, where she rolled herself into a tight little ball, knees drawn up, head lowered into her chest. It was wet and cold and uncomfortable. But, hidden behind the wooden shield, she felt a little safer than she had since she’d first heard the voice.

Silence. All around her. The wind hissed and the rain splashed down upon the seat and the platform and pinged loudly on her red slicker, but no oily, evil voice purred in her ear.

How would she know he had given up? How could she be sure? Even if she dared to sit up and look, she wouldn’t be able to see more than a few feet in front of her, because of the downpour. Better to stay quiet and hidden for as long as she could bear it.

Not too long ago, while she was looking for a birthday card for Andie, she had come across a get-well card that read, “Misery is lying in bed with a cold and an empty box of tissues.”

Wrong. Misery, she knew now, was lying scrunched-up on a hard, cold, puddled wooden seat in the middle of a rainstorm hiding from a maniac who is ranting and raving about some weird “power” and won’t rest until you’re stone-cold dead, and you don’t have a clue about why any of it is happening. That, it seemed to Eve, was true misery.

Lost in that misery, she didn’t realize at first that a new noise had joined the hissing of the wind. This one was louder, a creaking groan that began slowly and then quickly rose to a grinding, whirring noise, like when she’d tried to learn to drive a standard transmission car and had almost stripped the gears.

Not moving a muscle, Eve strained to listen more carefully.

But before she could place the sound, the car in which she had sought refuge lurched forward.

The Snake was moving!

Letting out a small, frightened cry, Eve bolted upright.

The Snake gathered speed so quickly, there was no time to jump free, even if she hadn’t been too frozen with terror to move. Although its lights never came on and its music never began playing, in the space of less than a minute, her “refuge” became a racing prison, whipping back and forth so quickly and at such impossible angles that, after only a second or two, Eve’s neck felt as if it were about to snap in two and send her head flying out into space.

There was no time to grasp the black safety belt and fasten it around her chest and shoulders. It sat, unused, flapping uselessly against the back of the seat.

Crying silently, “No, no, this can’t be happening!” Eve’s hand flew out instead to grasp the metal rail stationed across the wooden shield in front of her. She held on with all of her strength, and still her body was flung back and forth like a tennis ball as The Snake raced along its serpentine tracks. On the sharpest, most abrupt angles, Eve was lifted bodily off the seat. Had she not had the railing to cling to, she would have been flung free.

She hung on desperately. The wind, sharpened by the speed of the ride, forced her eyes closed. Her shoulders were on fire. Her chest heaved in an effort to catch her breath as the wicked ride zigzagged sharply left, then right, then back again, without warning.

Just when she knew she couldn’t hang on another second, The Snake suddenly slowed and came to a halt.

Eve sobbed with relief.

But she was completely drained, her knees nothing but sawdust, and before she could straighten up and tumble free of the car onto the platform, the grinding sound came again and The Snake took off a second time.

“Oh, God, no!” Eve screamed into the wind and the rain, “No!” but in vain. She was already speeding around yet another hairpin curve, her head snapping like a whip being cracked.

There’d be no getting off until the death-defying cycle had been repeated.

Eve struggled to think. The ride had to be on a timer. Which meant it would stop periodically. But the person handling the controls out here in the dark and the rain had no intention of letting her off. His goal was clear: to keep her on this thing until she was too exhausted to hold onto the railing any longer. Then The Snake would whip around one of the deadlier curves and her body would be tossed like a Frisbee, up into the air and out into the cold, wet night.

There was only one way to save herself.

She had to get off this ride.

And she had to get off it
before
it slowed to a stop. That pause would only last a second, and he’d be watching her, making sure she didn’t pull herself together enough to jump free.

She would have to get off while The Snake was still moving. And she would have to do it when her car was on the far side of the ride, away from the controls, where he had to be stationed. If she could work up the courage to jump, and time it just right … the jump to the ground wasn’t that great a distance. Maybe no bones would be broken. Maybe … maybe she’d even be able to get up and run, before he realized the car was empty.

The Snake was going so
fast!
If she jumped from a car going this fast, only a miracle would save her. But she couldn’t hang on much longer.

Heads I lose, tails I don’t win, she told herself grimly as the car whipped back and forth, back and forth, making her dizzy, tugging fiercely on her shoulders as her hands continued to grip the metal bar.

The rain was pelting down even harder, and it was hard to tell exactly where on the tracks she was now. The far side, away from the controls? There, off to her left in the distance, she could make out a large building—it had to be the top of the administration building. That meant … that meant that they were just about to whiz around the last, nasty curve before plunging into the section she felt would give her the best chance of jumping unseen.

Still clutching the rail, Eve sat up very straight. She leaned over the side of the car, hoping to see something, anything, that would give her hope. She saw nothing but a thick wall of rain.

If she jumped at the wrong moment, if she picked the wrong spot, if she landed the wrong way …

“Oh, God, I can’t do this,” she cried aloud. “This is insane! It’s too fast, I’m off-balance, I’m too tired …”

“Hey, Ee-vie!”

She could barely hear the voice above the roar of the ride.

“Ee-vie, isn’t this a blast? I hope you’re holding on. Are you holding on, Evie? Pretty soon, you’ll be too tired to hold on, you know. Then the power will lift you right up and out of that seat, and you’ll take flight. Probably always wanted to fly, right, Evie?
Wild, loud laughter.

Eve stood up, leaned as far over the side of the car as she dared, and jumped.

“E
VE? EVE, ARE YOU
awake?”

Eve opened her eyes to find herself lying in her own bed. The red slicker was gone, and her wet clothes had been removed. She was wrapped in her white terrycloth robe. It was warm and dry, as were the blankets covering her legs. Andie, her own hair curling with dampness, a towel slung over her shoulders, stood at the foot of Eve’s bed.

She must have just taken a shower, Eve thought, her eyelids heavy. Did I take one, too? I don’t remember, but my hair is wet, like Andie’s.

Garth was standing right behind Andie. His hair, too, was damp, plastered against his forehead in dark, wavy strands.

Eve struggled awake. Why was everybody’s hair wet? And what was Garth doing in her room?

“He found you,” Andie said, reading the expression on Eve’s face. “Garth found you, lying on the ground near The Snake.” She sat down on the edge of Eve’s bed. “He came here looking for you, a little while ago, and I told him you’d gone to the carnival site.” She smiled up at Garth gratefully. “Thank goodness he went looking for you. And he found you.”

“You were totally out of it,” Garth said, dropping into Eve’s desk chair. “I almost didn’t spot you. The rain made it hard to see, and you weren’t making a sound. I would have walked right by you if you hadn’t been wearing red. That helped.”

Eve raised herself up on her elbows. Her head swam and a wave of dizziness sent her flat on the pillow again, her damp hair splaying out around her.

“Eve,” Andie said flatly, “what in God’s name were you doing at that awful ride?” When Eve didn’t answer, she continued, “Maybe you should go to the infirmary. Are you okay?”

Eve reached up and fingered the bump on her forehead. Her vision wasn’t blurring and she didn’t seem to have any broken bones. “I don’t need to go to the infirmary. I’m fine.”

“Garth said it looked to him like you’d fallen off The Snake.” Andie frowned. “But the carnival is closed and none of the rides are operating, so we knew that didn’t make any sense.”

“I didn’t fall out,” Eve said wearily. She wished they would both go away. All she wanted to do was sleep. “I jumped. And The Snake
was
running. I was hiding in the last car, trying to get away from the voice, when someone started it up. The ride, I mean. And then they wouldn’t stop it long enough for me to jump out. So I had to jump out when it was still moving. There wasn’t any other choice.”

A flurry of questions tumbled out of both of them. Eve had a bad headache and she couldn’t think and she couldn’t answer the questions, anyway, because she didn’t know anything. She remembered the terrible feeling of panic when she was in that car and she remembered jumping and she even remembered hitting the ground and how much that had hurt, and she remembered feeling relieved that she wasn’t dead because she felt the chill from the deep puddle of water she had landed in, which had probably cushioned her fall. Her last thought before she lost consciousness had been, I could probably drown in this puddle.