Funland (48 page)
Now what? she wondered.
Her arm muscles burned. She gritted her teeth. Sweat stung her eyes. Sweat or blood trickled down her sides and was turned cold by the ocean breeze.
Go for it!
Robin gripped the safety bar with her right hand, released the cuff, and grabbed hold with her left hand. She thrust her head forward, catching the bar under her chin.
Her sudden motions set the gondola rocking. Its footrest shoved at the backs of her knees.
Swinging by the bar, she jerked her legs up. When the footrest swept forward again, it brushed the bottoms of her feet. She flung herself away from the bar, thrusting her body backward, and tumbled onto the seat. The gondola pitched madly, as if it wanted to toss her out. She spread-eagled herself, jamming her heels against the metal lip of its floor, shoving herself hard against the seat back, grabbing the sides.
Soon the gondola slowed to a gentle sway.
Robin brought her arms down, slid her legs together. She sat there for a few moments, shuddering and gasping for breath.
I made it, she thought.
My God, I made it!
With the thumb and forefinger of her right hand, she pinched the head of the pin and gave it a quick pull. The pin slid out of her chest. The breeze lifted the card free and sent it tumbling away into the night. Robin tossed the pin after it. The hole felt sore and itchy. In a way, it seemed more irritating than her other wounds. They were serious hurts, but this one was pesky. She rubbed it with the heel of her hand.
When it felt better, she lowered the hand onto her lap and pulled the cuff off. She dropped the cuffs onto the seat. She flexed her hands. Though they still felt a little numb, blood was beginning to circulate better. Her fingers tingled as if they’d been asleep.
A chilly gust buffeted her. Gritting her teeth, she folded her arms across her chest, cupped a breast in the warmth of each hand, and squeezed her legs together.
Now all I’ve got to worry about, she thought, is dying of exposure.
She suddenly remembered the three trolls somewhere below.
Icy fear spread through the pit of her stomach.
They can’t get me, she told herself.
If they could start the wheel going, they would’ve done it before now.
Maybe they’re just lying low until the cops…
The cops!
Robin leaned slowly forward and gripped the safety bar. She peered past the side of the gondola. The area near Funland’s main entrance was deserted. She scanned the entire length of the boardwalk. The moon-washed planking looked as gray as driftwood. The shadows were black smudges.
Maybe the kid’s whistle had been a false alarm.
Maybe he had seen cops, but they were on the way to some other destination.
Give them time, she told herself.
Though it seemed like forever since the kid had blown his whistle, it was probably no more than two or three minutes ago.
They might still show up.
The thought no sooner passed through her mind than a dark figure stepped out of the entryway’s shadows. Robin caught her breath. Then let it out, sighing with frustration.
This wasn’t a cop, it was a goddamn troll. She shuffled along, hunched over like an old witch, wrapped in a blanket that covered her head.
Wait!
That girl who’d warned the others—she’d said her sister the cop would be coming dressed as a troll.
That’s her!
Robin scooted across the seat, leaned out as far as she dared over the safety bar, thrust an arm out, waved, and shouted.
In the middle of the boardwalk, Joan slowly turned around.
No one.
Where the hell are they? she wondered.
Somebody
had
to be here. There’d been the whistle. There was the car parked in front, its engine running.
Shouldn’t have wasted time at the car, she thought. That had eaten up a minute or two.
The car might be all we’ll get, she told herself. It had been hot-wired, obviously stolen. Maybe by the same people who nailed Gloria.
But where are they now?
And where’s their victim?
Somebody in the backseat had bled.
They must be around here.
At least they won’t be driving off on us, she thought.
While Dave was copying the license number, Joan had cut the ignition wires with her knife, then rolled up the windows and locked the doors.
They aren’t going anywhere. Not in that car.
She turned around and shook her head. “The place looks deserted,” she said.
A silhouette, backlighted by the glow from the parking lot, appeared in the darkness beside the ticket booth. “What do you want to do?” Dave asked.
“They’ve gotta be somewhere.”
“Do you want me out there with you?”
“It’d blow the cover.”
“If they’ve already got someone, they might not try for you anyway.”
That was true enough. And the whistle might’ve been blown by a sentry, warning his friends that intruders were on the way. They might have fled up the beach, or scattered and hidden themselves somewhere among the rides or buildings of Fun-land.
“Just stay close enough to keep an eye on me,” Joan said. “I’ll head on down the boardwalk, see if I can draw them—”
“Behind you!”
She whirled around.
Two pale figures rushing up the stairs from the beach.
Their hands were empty.
A boy and a girl.
No threat from these two, Joan thought.
The guy had a slight build, and wore glasses that gleamed in the moonlight. A chrome whistle hung from a chain around his neck. The huffing girl beside him had a face as round as a bowling ball. She was dressed in a jumpsuit that bulged over bouncing piles of fat.
Could these be trollers?
A wimp and a blimp.
But they might have friends nearby, watching, waiting to pounce.
Joan released the grips of her .38 and took her hand out from under her sweatshirt. She held the hand toward them, palm up.
Might as well play it to the hilt, she thought.
Hope they didn’t hear Dave.
Still a few strides away from her, the two kids halted. They glanced at each other. They were both out of breath.
“How’s about a coupla bits?” Joan croaked. “Ain’t had me a bite t’eat in—”
“I think we need help, Officer,” the boy said.
Officer?
“Something awful’s happening,” the girl suddenly blurted. “I got away. I got out and I don’t know what’s going on, but I think it’s awfully bad. The trolls. Trolls in the walls. You gotta come.”
“Dave!” Joan called over her shoulder.
He hurried forward. He had his Beretta out, barrel raised beside his head.
“They’ve made me. They say there’s some kind of trouble.”
“Pat ’em down,” Dave said. “Hands on your heads, kids, and interlace your fingers.”
“We haven’t done anything,” the boy protested, but he followed instructions. So did the girl.
“What’re you doing out here?”
“Nothing.”
“We’d better let them talk,” Joan said. Flinging her blanket off, she stepped behind the boy and started to frisk him. “Something’s going down.”
“The others…” the girl said. “We went in a…a basement…and…”
“Let’s hear about last night,” Dave said. “Tell us about the troll you got last night.”
Joan felt a long hard bulge in the boy’s right-front pocket. “Got something here.”
“We didn’t do anything last night,” the boy said. “If you waste time giving us the third degree about some stupid—!”
Joan stuffed her hand into his pocket.
“Hey! You don’t have a search warrant. I’ve got my rights!”
“You’ve got the right to shut up,” Joan said.
“Please!” the girl whined. “Our friends!”
“Your friends are trollers,” Dave said. “If they’ve gotten into a mess, too damn bad. Let’s go back to last night.”
Joan pulled a knife from the boy’s pocket. She thumbed a button on its handle. The blade sprang out and locked. “Switchblade,” she said. She closed it and tossed it underhand to Dave. He glanced at it, then pushed it into a pocket of his jeans.
“You kids are in deep shit,” he said. “Now, I want to hear everything you know about a woman you and your friends nailed here last night.”
Done frisking the boy, Joan stepped behind the girl and started to pat her down. Her flesh felt loose and soft under the velour jumpsuit.
“We weren’t here last night,” the boy said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The girl began to sob. “They’re gonna be killed! They’re
all
gonna be killed! I just know it!”
“She’s clean,” Joan said.
“Okay. Well, we’ve got this one on a weapons charge.”
Joan stepped in front of them. “Where are the others?”
“They want to
bust
me. Don’t tell them.”
“I have to! It was so bad! You weren’t there, you don’t know how bad it was.”
The boy’s face twisted with indecision.
“They aren’t gonna bust you, Randy. They can’t. If they bust you, they’ve gotta bust her sister, and—”
Joan’s heart lurched. “Whose sister?”
“Yours,” the boy said.
“Shiner,” the girl said. “Betty.”
“Debbie,” the boy corrected her.
Joan went cold and rigid.
“Jesus Christ,” Dave muttered.
Debbie. A troller. No, that was impossible.
Trolls in the walls.
They’re gonna be killed! They’re
all
gonna be killed!
“Show us where they are,” Joan said.
“No.” The kid grabbed the girl’s sleeve and glared at Joan. “First you have to promise you won’t—”
Joan’s open hand hit his face. His head snapped sideways. His glasses flew off and skidded across the boards.
“Move it!” she yelled in the girl’s face.
The girl swung around and trotted toward the stairs, Joan close behind her.
“It’ll be all right,” Dave said.
“No!” Robin shouted. “Come back!”
But they didn’t hear her. They’d heard none of her yells. They’d never even glanced in her direction.
She was just too far away, too great a distance down the boardwalk, and too high up for her voice to reach them through the sounds of the wind and surf.
Clinging to the side of the gondola, she watched the fat girl rush down the stairs to the beach, followed by the woman and man. The kid bent down. He picked up his glasses and put them on, stood there for a few moments as if he didn’t know what to do, then ran to catch up with the others.
All four of them disappeared beneath the boardwalk.
Robin groaned.
She leaned further out over the side of the gondola and peered down.
The platform beside the Ferris wheel was deserted.
Where had the trolls gone?
Twisting her head around, she saw them.
On the wheel. Climbing its struts and spokes. Coming for her.
“You won’t do Shiner any good crying about it,” Tanya said. She pulled Jeremy to his feet. Through his tears, he saw Cowboy step to the door, jerk its knob, shake his head. “We’ve gotta keep going,” Tanya said. Her open hands rubbed his chest.
“She was just here ’cause of me.”
“She was a troller like the rest of us. She took her chances, month after month, before you even came along.”
“Can’t we do something?”
“She’s likely dead as monkey shit by now,” Cowboy said.
“You’ve gotta be brave,” Tanya said. “For me. You’re my soldier. You’re my lover.” She pulled him gently toward her. She lifted the bloody front of her sweatshirt. Though Cowboy and Liz were right there, probably watching, neither of them said a word. Tanya rubbed her breasts against him. They felt a little sticky from the blood that had soaked through her sweatshirt, but they were smooth and soft.
This is wrong, Jeremy thought. Wrong for her to do this…everything that’s happened…Shiner…Shiner’s gone…I couldn’t save her…Shouldn’t be doing this to me…
Even as tears rolled down his cheeks and his breath hitched with sobs, he felt heat spreading low inside him.
“You’re my brave lover,” Tanya said.
Jeremy took one of her breasts in his hand and caressed it.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, feel me. I’m alive. I’m yours.” She squeezed him gently through the front of his pants. “When we’re out of here, you’ll have me.”
He sniffed and nodded.
“That’s in case savin’ your own hide ain’t incentive enough,” Cowboy said.
Tanya backed away from Jeremy. She pulled her sweatshirt down and turned to the opening low in the wall. She squatted. “Samson?”
No answer.
Jeremy hadn’t noticed any sounds from Samson since the moment Shiner opened the door and…
He saw it all again in his mind—the horrible troll, the stunned, pleading look on Shiner’s face, the cleaver flying by, the door slamming. To be locked in a room with that monster…Oh, God!
She’d told him once that her greatest fear was to be caught by trolls. Now it had happened.
Jeremy hoped she
was
dead. Hoped that she had died quickly. So much better than to be alive while that hideous troll
did things
to her.
I’m sorry, he thought. God, Shiner, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. If only I’d gone to your house tonight…
“Samson must’ve bit it,” Cowboy said.
“This is our only way out,” Tanya said
“I’ll go down,” Jeremy said. He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I’ll go first.”
Tanya nodded. “Okay. Good man.”
“Let’s try to lower him down,” Liz said. “You know, hang on to him.”
“Good,” Tanya said. “Go down headfirst, I’ll hang on to your feet and go down after you. Liz, you take my feet.”
“I’ll be the anchor,” Cowboy said.
Tanya gave her knife to Jeremy. She took a candle off the wall and gave it to him.
Holding the knife and candle out ahead of him, Jeremy lay on the floor and squirmed forward, thrusting himself along with his elbows and knees. The metal sheet of the slide below his face shimmered golden in the candlelight. There were wooden walls on both sides, a wooden ceiling about three feet above the ramp. Not far down the slide, darkness swallowed the meager light. He squinted, but saw nothing in that darkness.