Dark Perceptions (Mystic's Carnival Collective) (7 page)

Steam billowed around us, kicked up from the motor below. Sweat trickled down my neck, my blouse clung to my damp skin, and my heart hammered an overwrought jig in my chest. People pushed, shoved, herded us through the entrance. I searched the faces around me, looking for something besides anticipation. I sought foreboding, the emotion tacking my feet to the ground like tar, slowing my approach. Everyone rushed. Everyone except me.
 

Wait! I don’t want to go.

I planted a determined scowl on my face and forced my legs to keep moving stiffly forward. Let Matt lead the way.
 

Inside the beastly contraption, a ghastly adapted Roulette Wheel spinner, the atmosphere dropped upon us, heavy and oppressive. I shuddered, feeling the presence of death. Anything but welcoming. Mirrors lined the interior walls, casting an unnerving peep show in the dim, strobing light.
 

Smoke and mirrors, all part of the trick. I knew that.
 

The illusion.
 

The game.
 

The terror.
 

It had me quaking on my feet.
 

My reflection gazed at me and the girl I saw, the girl looking back, was unrecognizable. No spark of life lit her features. Something dark and diseased resided behind her eyes
―
oblivion? A shudder moved through me, an icy chill squeezing the heat from my limbs. Even Matt’s leather jacket did little to provide comfort.
 

Perceptions can be misleading
, I reminded myself.
 

The crowd shifted around the circle, finding their ideal spot. The engineer moved with them, making sure each and every one was locked in securely.
 

I leaned forward into Matt’s body, brushed against his back, and whispered, “Why did I let you talk me into this? Fly-by-night rides are
insanely
dangerous.”

“All part of the allure.” He cast a beautifully wicked grin and yanked me around the circle to two empty spots. Two spots with our names dripping across the back wall.

I gulped, then blinked. Squeezed my lids tightly closed, wishing the nightmare over.
Not our names
.
Not possible
, I reassured myself.
Only my imagination. Has to be
. Our names couldn’t possibly be written inside the ride. And in what? Blood? No. I couldn’t believe that either. It was too ridiculous.

When I opened my eyes again, my breath escaped in a whoosh of relief.
 

Blank.
 

The back wall was blank. Nothing but grey metal. Of course there was no writing. Never had been. That would be inconceivable.
 

As if to escape my proposed ride imprisonment, I leaned into Matt and the safety his presence provided. “Let’s skip this and go to the Ferris wheel, like we wanted. This one freaks me out.”
 

A silent laugh rumbled through his chest, the kind that would have turned me on if I weren’t so uneasy. With strong arms clasped around me, he leered over me and pretended to gnaw at my neck. His attempt at playfulness felt forced and I laughed sharply, then swatted him away. Normally I loved the attention, but now was not the time.
 

Even though I was pushing him away, my hands enjoyed the chiseled lines he’d worked so hard to maintain. My blood heated, percolated like coffee, and possibilities for our future, for what lay in store, thrilled me. “Doesn’t it bother you that every direction we took to get to the Ferris wheel led us here?” Fear had me whispering, forcing him to edge closer to hear.
 

Matt’s lazy eyes suggested he didn’t harbor the same concerns, or masked them well. He confirmed with a shrug, suggesting the detour didn’t matter. “I don’t know what to make of this night, Sara. Any of it. But let’s make the best of our time together, while we can.” He edged up against me. His breath tantalizing my ear. His cold nose slipping in a curve along my cheek. I shivered involuntarily, the night air or oppressive atmosphere or the ride’s squirm factor having nothing to do with my reaction.
 

Overhead the light flickered, then blew out. A theatrical display of sparks showered upon us. Sweltering droplets landed on my arm. Burned my skin, if only mildly, and knocked me out of my slow-mo state of mind. The one that had me dragging my feet to our spots on the ride.
 

“Get moving, you two,” the ride engineer called from several feet away.

I ignored him, nudged Matt and jabbed my finger straight toward the light. “If that’s an omen, maybe we should leave. Leave now.”
 

He laughed, brushed my hair behind my ear, then adapted a dead-serious frown. “Don’t be scared. I’ll protect you.” He squeezed my hand, then stepped into the bay beside me and latched his harness.
 

He was brave. I could be brave, too. I latched my harness, pulled down the safety bar, and swallowed my cowardice. I tried not to think about the inconsistencies. Matt was right, I had nothing to fear. It had been silly of me to count the people getting on and off the ride while we’d waited our turn.
I clearly miscounted. It’s the only thing that makes sense. How else can a ride end with fewer occupants than it started? Yeah, that’s it, I counted wrong. Nothing to fear.
 

Scarred and ugly, the ride operator shoved into my personal space. Each waft of his rotting breath sent creepy crawlies skittering across my skin. My stomach churned a thick, clammy spin and twisted into a thorn-riddled knot.

He pulled and jiggled my harness, and all I wanted to do was shove him and his B.O.-drenched body away. His clumped-mop hair and tobacco-beer cologne induced an automatic hurl response in my esophagus.

“All good,” he said. I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

I just wanted him gone. Away from me. Out of my face. As far as he could possibly go. I turned away, averted my gaze. Maybe avoidance would move the process along quicker.
 

“Yep,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice steady, nonchalant. “All normal.” My eyes volleyed, settling on the rusty metal at my feet.

“Ya think?” he retorted with the hint of a cackle.
 

My muscles, tendons, all went rigid. There was something about the way he moved, the tone of his voice. So Stephen King-ish. Even as he helped the person on my left, he baited me, teased me. I couldn’t help myself. I looked up.
 

“Carnival wouldn’t ‘ave gotten its rep if it were normal.” His face contorted, took on an all-knowing
smirk. “She likes to show you things.” He leaned closer, whispered in my ear. My insides churned and I shivered, jerked away. Ignoring me, he jiggled my harness, then continued moving around the ride’s ring like a spinning tornado ride. Within seconds he was gone.
 

Panic burrowed deep within my belly. Nausea bubbled, burned up my throat. My eyes darted, searched the riders in the other bays, then sought the exit. Things weren’t right. People were missing and there had been monsters present. I wanted off. Had to get out. Had to move before it was too late.
 

The ride lurched, began to spin, and my heart sank, froze me with fear.
 

Already too late.
 

In a circle we swung. Slowly at first, then faster and faster with each rotation. Riders, lights, machinery, all blurred into a haze.
 

I reached for Matt’s hand and flailed in the dark. What I found was cold and clammy. It made my skin squirm. Fighting the force of the gravitational pull, I twisted my head. Turned toward him. He wasn’t there. The face of a rotting corpse stared back at me. His eyes brown, like Matt’s. The hair falling from his scalp, the same dirty blond. But it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be Matt—right?

I couldn’t drop his hand fast enough, my scream erupting, ripping up my throat and out of my mouth.
 

“Don’t worry, Sara. I’ll protect you,” it said. Words almost lost in the sounds of a bizarre musical track and an insane combination of screams and savage laughter. Words I would have sworn were meant to soothe me, yet did anything but.
 

My head snapped forward and I screamed again. Screamed with every ounce of blood-curdling might I could muster. I wanted to escape, run, get away, but the ride moved at astronomical speed and my body merged with the wall from the force of it all.
 

The back wall seeped in around me. Held me with a dry ice grip and werewolf claws. Frost encased me, molded around me, torment splintering through my chest at the speed of my rapid,
thump-thumpidy
heart.

I’m going to die.
 

The thought dropped in my gut like a boulder to the bottom of the sea, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
 

I wasn’t ready to die. Not yet.
 

I grasped at the handles. Held out for hope. For a chance I’d make it through the ride alive.
 

The Matt-corpse shouted, its voice pitching like a little girl’s.
Is it scared, too?
The message was garbled, words gobbled by the grind of the motor, the gale of the wind, and the
gorrific
screams within. That thing was a monster, an ugly symbol of death. And I refused to look.
 

Instead, I focused on tobacco and beer. The eerie ride engineer.
He knew. He said as much. He said the carnival wasn’t normal. This is a Krypton’s throw from normal.
My heart accelerated like God had slammed his foot down on the gas pedal of my life.
 

Then my ticker froze. Stopped. Suspended mid-beat.

Breath rose, hitched in my chest, time and time again. Splotches danced, made tracks across my vision, fading in and out and in and out. I was hyperventilating.
 

It was too much. Too much panic and fear and anxiety and unknowing.

Something rough
―
gnarly, knotted skin
―
clamped around my ankle. My shriek trapped within my throat. The tiniest of yelps escaped.
 

What this side of Hell’s Gates could move contrary to the centrifugal force flattening me like a pancake? I didn’t want to look, yet I tried. It was like my head had been strapped. I couldn’t move.
 

Fire flared across my neck muscles as I pressed forward, determined to see my feet. My arms, my shoulders, they ached from the strain. And that something, that
thing
clamped around my ankle, continued to scratch and paw as it climbed up my legs. Fear froze my responses. My mind colliding, tripping and falling over all my thoughts like a pile of dirty laundry.
 

Then I saw it. Saw her.
 

She was me—only dead.
 

Like the Matt-thing in the bay beside me. She dragged her torn and bloodied body up mine, climbing until our eyes met. Then I squeezed mine shut and refused to look. Trying to press and hold the positive and beautiful moments behind my eyelids.
 

No use.

Her voice slithered through the recesses of my mind. Detached, slow, scary, and weary. “There’s no evading
―
”

Siren song swooped in all around me, signaling the ride’s end. The spinner lurched, slowed. A pop
―
my body ungluing from the back wall. All motion shifted to a crawl. With hesitation, I opened my eyes and watched us slowly spin to a stop. She, the dead version of me, was gone, and Matt was normal again.

A tremble shuddered through me, my psyche crumbling into wreckage.
 

Internally I was still screaming, kicking and ripping at my restraints.
 

The engineer flashed around the circle, releasing the riders with a gunman’s quick draw. His mangled, wicked grin focused on me. “Did you see it? See what you refuse?”

A nervous giggle bubbled up to camouflage my anxiety and fear. I didn’t answer, not in words.
 

I stepped away from the harness, away from the ride. I slipped, skipped, skittered as quick as I could, pulling Matt at my side. An empty bay on our left and one far off to the right. Riders gone missing, but where had they gone? Glimpses of things stared out from the mirrored walls, passed too quickly to truly be seen.
 

When the spinner’s metal cage fell behind us and the crisp night air kissed my skin, I yanked Matt closer, wanting nothing more than to melt into him. “Hated that,” I said, my voice low and hoarse, refusing to cry. No matter how frazzled the experience had been, I would not give in. I was stronger than tears.
 

We stood, two wrapped lovers, among the carnival crowd. Whispering couples, laughing families, kids of all ages, even kids with balloons, all passing around us. I laid my head against Matt’s chest and stared at the festive, magical lights splaying ahead. No longer the impossible find, the Ferris wheel loomed before us, twinkling high into the midnight sky. In the damp night air the glowing, glittering lights blurred, casting a come-hither aura.
 

I wanted to go. Now I knew we soon would.
 

Matt squeezed me. His arms fitting firm and secure around me. It wasn’t the kind of hug you gave on a first date, or even a second. It was a sincere melding of bodies. The kind you felt all the way to your core. My fingers clenched at the fabric of his shirt, wanting to pull him around me, into me. Gone were my fears about love and relationships. I was ready to cement my commitment to Matt.
 

He gently kissed the top of my head. “It wasn’t all that bad. A lot better than our last date,” he murmured. He stared at me in silence for several beats and I felt the weight of his words press upon me. Push the breath of truth into me. “You remember now, don’t you?” he said, and I looked up at him, unblinking. “Damn big rig ruined everything.” His lips fell into a somber frown.

Every ounce of every bit of me went infinitesimally rigid. I stared at the rides, at the game booths, at all the kids with their Mylar balloons. In every single reflective surface
―
every one
―
dead versions of Matt and me stared back.