Carnies Page 24

  Rachel gasped at this. This made him smile even wider.

  ‘So,’ he continued, ‘we’ll just have to wait for him to arrive before this party can begin in earnest. Are there any objections?’

  “Fuck you!”

  The voice surprised him. He turned to face the young woman who spoke. She was lithe with short hair and furious eyes. The other carnies moved away from her, as if frightened of being tainted by her rebellion. Sensible.

  He smiled at her, beatific as a saint, cold as a killer. “I beg your pardon, miss?”

  She met his gaze without flinching. “I said fuck you.”

  “Jasmine,” Rachel said softly, her eyes frightened. “Please...”

  “No, Rachel,” she shot back, never breaking eye contact with David. “You’re all so bound by tradition and habit, you’ve forgotten who you are. What you are. But I haven’t. And I won’t kowtow to this prick.”

  “That’s a pity, my dear,” he said and sat down again. He reached down beside the chair, picked up the rifle he’d put there and cocked it. ‘Because my friend here doesn’t like objections. He finds them... objectionable.’ He laughed then, a cackling laugh that he barely recognised as his own.

  Stop that, his father admonished him. You sound like a crazy person.

  ‘Sorry, Dad,’ he said, still giggling a little. He raised the rifle and aimed it at the young woman’s head. She didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away, just held his gaze with her defiant eyes. Jasmine, Rachel had called her. Like the flower. He sniffed the air to capture her scent.

  His finger froze on the trigger. She smelled of him. No, more than that. He was inside her, growing.

  Leverage, his father murmured inside his head.

  He lowered the rifle. “It’s your lucky day, young lady,” he purred. “Or perhaps it’s mine.” He shifted his gaze to a large carnie standing near Jasmine. “You.”

  He looked around, then pointed at his chest with raised eyebrows, frightened.

  “Yes, you. Keep that bitch under control. Or it’ll be you that takes the first silver bullet.”

  To the lummox’s credit, he only hesitated for a moment before grabbing Jasmine’s arms. She struggled, but his grip was strong, his eyes apologetic.

  Then David caught a scent, a familiar one. He smiled. ‘Ah, about time.’

  The door to the building burst open, and Tacker ran inside, his hands nearly touching the hard earthen floor. The other carnies backed away, startled, as he darted amongst them like an excited puppy, sniffing at them. Children and pups shied away from him. Then he saw David and his eyes lit up. He scampered across the floor to him, dropped down onto his hands and knees and panted.

  ‘Good boy,’ David said, trying to calm him down.

  ‘Good boy.’

  Tacker’s breathing slowed and he stopped trembling. David was pleased. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘remember I told you to fetch?’

  The tall man nodded, which made his long, greying hair fall in front of his face.

  There was an expectant pause. ‘Well?’ David said at last. ‘Where is it?’

  Tacker grinned and reached behind himself, pulling something out and dropping it on the floor.

  It was his knife.

  David sighed. ‘Yes, very good,’ he said, trying not to let his exasperation show. ‘But what about the man I threw it at?’

  Tacker looked puzzled, his head tilted to one side. Then he understood. He panted a few garbled words. He managed to glean three distinct words, three concepts, from the babble.

  -road-

  -men-

  -van-

  David sat back in his chair, thoughtful. Road... men... van... with any luck, he meant the highway and the silver van he’d seen. And the men were Paul and Parkes’ son. Definitely serendipitous if that were the case, though in a town as small as Tillbrook it could hardly be called a huge coincidence. They were on their way here, after all. They must be, assuming they’d been back to the motel. Parkes’ betrayal was rather fortunate, in fact, because it led them right to where David wanted them.

  He smiled. It wouldn’t be long now. Not long at all.

  -41-

  The encampment looked deserted when Paul and Alvan arrived. Paul turned off the engine some five hundred metres away and let it roll the rest of the distance, before stopping just inside the tree line. As they got out of the car and approached on foot, Paul’s first impression was of a ghost town, like in an old western. He imagined the whole carnival was dead, killed by his own flesh and blood. He trembled, just a little. Alvan looked across at him, concerned. Paul shook his head to the unasked question, then closed his eyes and listened.

  A few silent seconds went by, then Alvan spoke in a small voice. ‘Are they...?’ He trailed off, unable - or perhaps unwilling - to finish the question.

  Paul opened his eyes. ‘No,’ he declared. ‘I can hear voices at the centre of the camp. Muffled, from inside a building. And all in the same place. Except...’ he frowned and cocked his head a little, concentrating. ‘Except not quite all. There’s also noise coming from closer to us. There,’ he said, pointing at one of the wooden huts, a large one.

  ‘Voices?’ Alvan asked.

  ‘No,’ Paul replied. ‘More like... a struggle. And metal noises too.’ Paul shivered, imagining what kind of metal it could be. ‘We should check that out first,’ he decided.

  ‘It’s on the way, anyway.’

  Alvan looked puzzled. ‘On the way where?’

  Paul smiled grimly. ‘To the big house. That’s where they all are. That’s where he is.’ He looked into the camp, and in his mind he could see what was happening, or what would happen. ‘At Amos and Rachel’s place.’

  Alvan looked at him blankly for a few more seconds, then shrugged.

  ‘Come on,’ Paul whispered, and limped down towards the camp, Alvan close behind him. The long package that was strapped to his back chafed, and he wished he could take it off and unwrap it. That would make his life much easier in so many ways, but he needed the element of surprise. His plan depended on it.

  They crossed the open ground near the front of the camp, and then were amongst the buildings. Paul led the way through the rough-hewn wooden structures, and headed towards the source of the sounds he could hear. As they got closer, he realised that there was only frustration in the grunts he could hear, but no pain, and he relaxed a little. Perhaps there was no silver involved after all.

  The door to the big building was closed. Even Alvan could clearly hear the noises now: the clanking of metal, the growling of effort. They paused outside the door.

  ‘Ready?’ Alvan asked.

  Paul nodded. ‘We seem to be doing this a lot.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Bursting into rooms.’

  Paul pushed the door open and they stepped inside. Paul took in the room. It was spacious, held up by a massive column. It looked like a karri tree had sprouted in the middle of the building and grown up straight through the roof above it. Standing in front of the column was Ben - but not the Ben that Paul had come to know during his brief time at the carnival. This was not the gentle and articulate man who’d been one of the few to accept him. Instead it was the monster that he’d first met in the freak show tent, who had foamed at the mouth and fought to be freed. His wrists were manacled, and a chain ran around the back of the column, so short it barely gave him room to move his arms. Time and time again he yanked on it, and each time his other arm was pulled back sharply, which caused him to growl even more. There was a deep groove worn in the wood by the chain rubbing against it, and the column itself was shaking a little. Bark and dust came down from the ceiling every time Ben wrenched at his bonds. Paul suspected that if he kept going this way, he’d bring the whole building down on him.

  ‘Ben,’ he said, trying to get the creature’s attention. Then again, louder. ‘Ben!’

  It took a minute for him to calm down. His breathing slowed, and his struggling petered out. His eyes cleared, became lucid again and he t
urned to Paul. Finally he spoke, his voice ragged. ‘Paul?’

  ‘Hold on, Ben, we’re going to get you out of these.’ He leaned forward and looked at the manacles. Each one had a sturdy lock on it. ‘Shit,’ he muttered, then looked back up at Ben. ‘I don’t suppose you know where the keys to these are?’

  Ben nodded, his anger barely contained. ‘Your brother has them.’

  ‘Ah.’ Paul rubbed his chin. ‘I guess I can’t go over and ask him for them.’

  ‘No,’ Ben growled. ‘He’s insane, Paul. He killed Amos, and he’s taken Rachel and the rest to the main house. And I don’t... know... what... he’s... doing... to... them!’ With every word, he yanked hard on his chains. The column wobbled even more now, and Paul glanced up at the ceiling nervously.

  ‘Ben,’ he said, ‘you keep that up, you’ll kill us all.’ Ben stopped again, looked at Paul. ‘Why is he doing this?’ he asked softly. ‘Why is he here?’

  Paul shook his head. ‘I don’t know exactly,’ he admitted. ‘If he’d just killed Amos, I’d have thought he was here to take over. But...’ he trailed off.

  Ben frowned. ‘What do you mean, ‘just killed Amos’?’

  Paul looked away. ‘I think you’re right, Ben,’ he said, avoiding the question. ‘I think he is crazy, crazier than any of us can imagine. And I don’t think he’s here to take over. I think he’s here to destroy.’

  ‘Destroy what?’

  ‘Everything,’ Paul declared. ‘Everything.’ He looked at the chains again. ‘Shit... we have to get these off you, Ben. Before he comes back and finishes what he’s started.’

  Alvan stepped forward, nervous. ‘I have bolt cutters in my car. I can go and get them.’

  ‘Alvan?’ Ben looked over at the little man. ‘Didn’t notice you there, sorry. It’s good to see you.’

  ‘I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances,’ Alvan replied.

  Paul turned to Alvan. ‘Okay, you get the bolt cutters and get Ben free.’

  Alvan nodded, then turned and jogged out of the building.

  Ben looked at Paul, his eyes worried. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked.

  ‘What I came here to do,’ Paul responded. He shifted the long bundle on his back again, trying to find a comfortable position for it in vain. He gave up and let it ride between his shoulder blades and dig into the flesh there. ‘I’m going to finish what I started.’

  He walked towards the door, terrified, but certain he was doing the right thing. One way or another, this had to end.

  ‘I’m going to stop him.’

  Paul stepped outside and closed the door behind him, then looked around, a little nervous. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, then made his way to the main house.

  From outside, he could hear David speaking. He snuck up to the door and opened it a crack, looking in.

  His first sight of David shocked him. He was barely recognisable, hunched over and twisted, his nose flattened, ears up high and almost as hairy as Ben. He looked as though a blind sculptor had tried to mould a dog out of a human being. He was sitting in a large chair, and at his side he had a bottle. The bottle was large and heavy, a dark amber colour with a wide base and almost perfectly cylindrical. Its label had been torn off and only ragged remnants were left behind.

  ‘What is that?’ Paul heard Rachel ask, but could not see her. Paul jumped at the sound of her voice. David looked up, and seemed to notice that the other carnies were also staring at him, their faces both fearful and inquisitive. He smiled, and addressed the entire room with his answer.

  ‘You may have noticed that I have, uh, developed differently from the rest of you,’ he explained, spreading his arms wide. ‘This,’ he gestured to the bottle, ‘is why. A secret concoction, created by my father, which enhanced my powers. My abilities. My strength and speed. This gave me the edge over your former leader.’

  Bullshit, Paul thought, staring at the bottle. Most of the carnies would never have seen a bottle of that size and shape before, but he had, when he’d done - and failed - chemistry at high school. It usually had a label with a long name, some arcane chemical notation, and a little picture of a skull and crossbones. He didn’t know exactly what chemicals the bottle might hold, but he could make a wild guess.

  ‘This it is my gift to you all,’ David continued. ‘It will bring you all to a new plane of existence.’

  Oh yeah, Paul thought, I bet it will!

  Without further hesitation, Paul kicked open the door and strode inside. The carnies were all gathered there, and to one side he saw Jasmine struggling against the grip of a large man. He would have smiled at that, if the situation hadn’t been so grim.

  ‘That’s enough, David,’ he ordered, amazed that his voice didn’t shake. All his fear, all his trepidation, had vanished, as if he’d left them outside on the step. ‘I’m here.’

  A bestial man in biker’s leathers who had been curled up near David’s chair scrambled to his feet and loped forward, snarling. I guess this is the one who killed the bikie at the motel room, Paul thought, watching it approach him. He’s another biker, of course. I should have figured.

  As the man got closer, Paul reached behind him and pulled out the package he had strapped there. He opened its wrappings with calm fingers. The hessian fell away, and the contents of the package were revealed.

  ‘Tacker, no!’ David called, and the bikie skidded to a halt, then scrambled backwards, its eyes panicked, as Paul held the object high for all to see.

  His silver cane.

  -42-

  About time, his father said, a kind of vicious happiness in his voice. David smiled in response. He watched Paul limp forward, cane raised, the silver glinting. He looked so serious, so grim. The expression struck David as quite funny, like watching a child trying to imitate an adult. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. His lengthened canines tore the soft flesh there a little, making him bleed. As amusing as he might appear, he was also dangerous.

  He is not your brother, his father declared. Not anymore. Never forget that. It is a demon, wearing his appearance and memories like a masquerade costume. Don’t give him a chance to use that cane on you.

  ‘Oh, I won’t,’ David muttered beneath his breath.

  ‘Quite the opposite, in fact.’

  ‘What?’ Paul asked, looking confused.

  David returned his attention to his brother - to the creature he had become. Paul held the cane like a sword, point outwards, the rubber tip removed to reveal a sharp end. Not as sharp as, say, a knife, but sharp enough, if enough brute force was applied. Which was something Paul would have a fair amount of.

  As do you, his father reassured him. And more than him, I would wager.

  ‘Nothing, little brother, nothing at all,’ he answered Paul’s question. ‘Nothing that concerns you, anyway.’ He grinned. ‘Well, isn’t this pleasant? A family reunion.’

  ‘Great,’ Paul said.

  ‘It’s been a while since we’ve seen one another,’ David continued, still smiling.

  ‘Not long enough,’ his brother responded, voice angry.

  The smile turned to a grin. ‘Well, that’s not quite true. It’s been a while since you have seen me. But I saw you a little earlier today, on my way here. You and your fat little friend.’

  Paul seemed startled by this, but didn’t respond. David nodded. ‘Is he your pet human? I’d imagine he’s a bit of a bother.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Paul responded, ‘but at least he doesn’t mess up the room the way your lapdog does.’

  ‘Who? Tacker here?’ David gestured towards the bikie, who was hunched over on all fours, shaking with eagerness to leap forward and attack the intruder. ‘Well, you have to expect some house training problems with a new puppy. I’m sure he’ll grow out of it.’

  ‘You’re not much better, bro,’ Paul said, grim. ‘You left the bedroom in a hell of a state.’

  David pretended to look innocent for a moment. ‘Do you think I’ll get
my deposit back on the room?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Paul pointed towards the bottle at David’s side. ‘What were you going to give them? Silver nitrate?’

  This surprised David. He fought to hide his reaction, but didn’t quite succeed, and his smile slipped. Paul raised an eyebrow, and the carnies talked amongst themselves, their anger growing.

  ‘Good guess,’ David conceded. ‘But it changes nothing. You see this?’ He held up his hand, displaying the ring he’d taken from Amos. ‘I lead these creatures now. If I wanted to, I could order them to rip you apart.’ He smiled again. ‘But I want that pleasure for myself.’

  ‘Do you really hate me that much, David?’ Paul asked, and there was a sadness in his voice. It shook David’s resolve. He sounded so sincere, so... so human. So Paul.

  Prince of lies! His father’s voice rang in his head again, hurting him. This time he managed to restrict his reaction to a flinch, and his eyes closed. Rip out his silver tongue and pierce his heart with it!

  David opened his eyes. ‘Yes, Father,’ he breathed.

  ‘Father?’ Paul asked, bewildered.

  Then David sprang forward. He leapt from his chair and landed about halfway between it and his brother. The carnies fell silent as David scuttled forward on all fours, so fast that his brother barely had time to dodge out of the way. Paul staggered to one side as David lunged past. The cane returned to its original function as he stumbled aside: supporting his weight. David rolled on the ground behind Paul, reached to the scabbard strapped to his side and pulled out the knife sheathed there. He ended up back on his feet. One hand was on the ground, the other held the knife out in front of him, and he waved the tip back and forth in the air like the head of an angry snake. Paul turned to face him, and raised the cane again.

  ‘Does it have to be this way?’ Paul asked, still quiet, still sad. There was no fear in his voice. ‘David, you’re my brother. You looked after me.’

  ‘I’m still looking after you,’ David growled, and leapt forward again. The knife-edge whistled through the air. Paul ducked just in time. The blade missed the top of his head by a few centimetres. Then Paul spun around and hit David’s back with the length of the cane. The muffled thump sent him lurching forward, and he ended up on his hands and knees. The knife fell from his hand and bounced on the wooden floor, back towards the seat he’d vacated earlier.