Carnies Read online

  He looked again at the carnival flyer. The sensations faded into the background as he found himself looking forward to the trip, the old excitement building. A story’s a story, after all.

  -3-

  The old petrol bowser clicked and shuddered as Paul stood by the car, leaning against the roof to keep the weight off his left foot, holding the handle down on the nozzle. He wasn’t paying attention to the numbers shuddering around on the bowser. He was more interested in the girl opposite him filling her old Volkswagen Beetle. She was wearing cut-off jeans shorts, despite the wet, chilly weather, and was bending down to fill her car up. She kept shifting her weight from one foot to another, which made her bottom do very interesting things just above the tattered fringes of her shorts. Paul found himself becoming strangely hypnotised by the motion, like he was watching a pendulum. A round, pink, fleshy pendulum...

  A sudden loud clack from the bowser broke his trance. The tank was full. If this had been a movie, he thought, the tank would have overflowed onto the front of my pants. He grinned, for once glad that he lived in the real world. He put a little more petrol into the tank, bringing the total up to one cent over the dollar. He always liked to do that. It felt like he was getting a cent’s worth of free gas. Then he replaced the nozzle in the bowser and went to pay for the petrol, hating to tear his eyes away from the girl with the VW. The rubber tip of his cane thumped on the bitumen with every second step. It had taken him months to find a cane he liked after the accident, one that didn’t make him look like a man in his sixties instead of in his late twenties. He’d settled on a plain, straight wooden cane, black with a rounded pommel, and a shaft which tapered slightly down its length. He’d even bought two, in case one got broken or lost.

  The front door of the petrol station was manual, which took Paul by surprise. He was used to the automatic doors of city petrol stations. He bumped into it, startled, then pulled it open. Inside it was quite dark, and the shelves were populated with products he’d never seen at the local servo, or anywhere else for that matter. Row after row of outdated audio cassettes, mostly country and western, mock-Akubra hats, locally made beef jerky... where were the Ralph magazines, the slushy dispensers, the auto tellers? It was just plain weird.

  The lady behind the counter looked at him with an eyebrow slightly raised as he approached. Behind her was a wide window for her to look out of, through which the late afternoon sun was faintly visible through the clouds low on the horizon. She looked about his brother’s age, maybe older, with a tight bun of greying hair tied up on top of her head and a little too much makeup. Her badge said ‘Noelene’.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked in a nasal voice, speaking just a little slower than Paul would have thought was normal. Maybe it was a country thing.

  ‘Pump three, thanks,’ he said. Then, on a whim, he opened one of the plastic jars and pulled out a length of jerky. ‘And this.’ He looked around the store while Noelene rang up the sale, seeing if there were any flyers for the carnival like the one David had shown him earlier in the day. He couldn’t see any. That seemed a little odd, since the signposts seemed to indicate that they were on the outskirts of Tillbrook. He’d have thought there’d be advertising around.

  ‘Thirty-eight, thanks love,’ Noelene said. Paul took out the fifty dollar note David had given him for the petrol some hours back and handed it over. She opened the till and put it in, gathering his change.

  ‘So, you going to the carnival tonight?’ Paul asked, chewing on the end of the piece of jerky.

  The woman slammed the till shut with a crash, making Paul jump. She turned to him, and all the friendliness had vanished from her expression. She slapped his change, a note and two coins, down on the counter, saying nothing more. Paul took the change, put it back in his pocket and backed away. He thought about saying goodbye, but the woman’s eyes dissuaded him. He hurried to the door, nearly bumping into it again on the way out.

  Once outside, he noticed the Volkswagen was still there, but the girl had gone. She was probably in the store herself now, but Paul hadn’t noticed her. He was too caught up in the little scene that had played out in there. There’s probably a story behind that, he thought, but put it out of his mind and returned to the car, munching on the jerky.

  Back to the naggin’ wagon.

  He climbed in and lay his cane across the back seat, next to his spare. He glanced across at David, who was still sitting back in his seat, eyes closed, breathing slow and deep. He’d fallen asleep about half an hour earlier, and Paul had done nothing to wake him up. The silence was way better than the stilted small talk they’d endured earlier, the pointless chitchat. Paul had breathed a sigh of relief when David had finally drifted off. He suspected that he was just pretending to be asleep, to avoid having to make any more conversation. That was fine with him.

  He started up the car, a rather nice, newish sedan, and pulled out of the petrol station, thankful for the automatic transmission. A manual would have murdered his ankle by now. He was careful turning back onto the highway. The rain had made the oil-stained road as slippery as hell, and there were massive trucks hurtling up and down the highway with no regard for safety. It was a nerve-wracking place to drive. Paul had taken over driving a few hours before, once David had tired of it, and his hands hurt from the tension in the knuckles. He’d appreciated the break to fill up.

  They headed south along the highway, Paul staying below the speed limit, peering out through the rain-washed windscreen. It wasn’t that wet outside, just drizzling, but that made it even harder for the arcs of the windscreen wipers to completely clear the glass, instead leaving streaks and speckles behind them. Paul always felt nervous driving in the rain, even on familiar streets, but this was far worse: a strange road dotted with insane truckers. Thank goodness they were almost there.

  As if on cue, a sign came into view.

  TILLBROOK

  1 KM

  Paul relaxed a little. They’d be there soon, and then they could check into the motel and unwind for a while. He hoped it had cable. There were some shows that you could only get on cable these days. Not porn - well, not necessarily - but old shows that he’d grown up with. British sitcoms and American cop shows. That’d be nice. He lost himself for a few moments in those memories of watching the television while David was out of the house. Their father had died when Paul was six and a half, their mother years before that, not long after Paul was born, so David had taken over raising his younger brother as best he could. The fifteen year age difference had widened the rift between them even further, until it was more a generation gap. Paul could only watch the TV shows he liked while David was away, working or socialising, or whatever it was he did when he left the house. It had made him appreciate being alone in his adult years.

  Then Belinda had arrived on the scene, and made him appreciate not being alone any more. Now she was gone, and he didn’t find solitude quite as attractive as he once had. Funny, that.

  Something flashed out onto the highway from the underbrush at the side of the road in front of the car, something small and sleek and covered in dark fur. Yanked abruptly from his thoughts, Paul yelped and slammed on the brakes, feeling the pedal push back under his foot. The tyres screamed like frightened children as the wheels locked up, but it wasn’t slowing the car down fast enough. Then Paul felt the rear of the car begin to fishtail, swinging out towards the middle of the road. He tried to remember if you were meant to turn into a skid or out of one. He tried to correct the car’s heading, but the oil on the road had turned the bitumen to glass, and the car continued to slide. From the corner of his eye, Paul saw the animal he’d tried to avoid, untouched on the far side of the road, diving into the bushes there. It looked like a dog of some sort. Part of him was relieved that it was okay. The part that wasn’t panicking, of course.

  Then, for a moment, the tyres found purchase and Paul was thrown forward by the sudden deceleration. The car lurched, and he heard a horrible crunching noise coming from ben
eath his feet. He realised it was the gravel shoulder of the road under the tyres, that they’d left the highway. They continued this way for a maybe fifty metres, before coming to a shuddering stop. The car stuttered and stalled.

  There was silence then, just the constant swish-swish of the windscreen wipers and the soft patter of rain on the roof and bonnet. Paul looked in the rear-vision mirror, and saw two long, deep grooves torn out of the gravel behind the car. He realised he’d been holding his breath, and let it out in a gasp. Then he turned to his brother.

  David was awake, of course. He looked like a statue, like a sculptor had decided to carve a study in terror out of soapstone. His eyes were wide open, as was his mouth. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down slightly, and a vein pulsed in his temple. He sat there for a long time, before blinking once, twice, and then turning his head towards Paul. It took a few moments for him to find his voice.

  ‘What... what the hell happened?’

  Paul shook his head. ‘Something ran onto the road, a dog or something.’ He looked around for it, but couldn’t see much through the wet windows. ‘I hit the brakes.’

  ‘That was a mistake, Paul,’ David snapped. ‘This is a country road. You see an animal on the road, you keep on driving. It’s safer that way.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘But nothing. We could have been killed. Other people could have been killed. Is that worth a single dog’s life?’

  David’s voice was taking on that preachy tone again, the one he’d learned from their dad. Paul sighed. ‘I guess not. But we’re okay, and so’s the dog.’ He smiled. ‘So everything’s okay.’

  David didn’t look comforted. ‘That’s yet to be seen. I’m going to check for damage.’ He undid his seatbelt and opened the door.

  ‘Do you want me to come?’ Paul asked.

  ‘No,’ David said, ‘you stay here. You’ve done enough.’

  Before Paul could think of a response, David was out of the car. He held one hand over his eyes to keep the rain off his glasses. Paul closed his eyes for a moment, angry at his brother, but also at himself. Because he knew that David was right. He could have killed them both. Over a stupid dog.

  Some instinct made him open his eyes then, perhaps a sound from outside, he wasn’t sure. He looked out of the window next to him, and in the bushes on the other side of the road he saw the animal that had caused all of this. It was blurry through the wet glass, but it looked like it was watching them.

  ‘Hey, David!’ he called, sitting up in his seat. His brother turned at the sound of his voice. He pointed towards the spot in the bushes where the animal stood. As he did so, it turned and vanished into the greenery. David looked at Paul, one eyebrow raised. ‘Did you see that?’ Paul yelled, still pointing. David looked across the road, then back at Paul and shrugged, his annoyance obvious. Paul sighed and sat back. Something about the last few moments bothered him, before the dog had leapt back into the underbrush. Something about the way it was standing just didn’t look right. And just before it turned...

  Had he seen it wink at him?

  -4-

  David looked again at the bushes where Paul pointed, on the opposite side of the highway, but he still couldn’t see anything. He didn’t know what his brother was on about, and didn’t much care either. He turned and continued to examine his car for any signs of damage that their unexpected detour on the gravel might have caused, looking under the car at the muffler, checking all the tyres. There was still the strong smell of burnt rubber, and something else. Maybe the brake pads. David shook his head. He’d just had the car serviced a few weeks earlier. The last thing he needed right now was another repair bill. Muttering under his breath, he walked to the driver’s door and opened it, surprising Paul.

  ‘I’m driving,’ David said.

  ‘But...’ Paul started, but shut up as he saw the look on David’s face. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out, avoiding his brother’s gaze. David watched him as he walked around to the other side of the car, opened the door and climbed back inside. David stood outside the car for a few moments more, almost enjoying the peace. Then he took a deep breath and got back into the car, closing the door behind him. He put on his seatbelt and started up the engine.

  ‘Is it all right?’ Paul asked in a small voice.

  Trying to get back into my good books, David thought. Not just yet. ‘I’m not sure,’ he answered, easing back onto the road, the tyres slipping and skidding a few times in the gravel and mud as he did so. ‘We’ll have to wait and see.’

  There was silence again, as David concentrated on the car. He was alert to any changes in its handling, the way the gears shifted, the way the brakes worked. Paul had to learn that actions had consequences. But he couldn’t detect anything amiss with the car, something which both relieved and irritated him.

  Then a sign passed them on the left that made everything seem a little better.

  WELCOME TO TILLBROOK

  ‘Yes!’ Paul said, the sudden noise making David jump. But he found himself smiling as he drove nonetheless. They’d finally made it, with only one near-fatal incident.

  They passed over a bridge that crossed a little brook a few metres below them. Its edge was lined with gum trees, and the water was fast and deep, thanks to the rain of the last week or so. It was very picturesque.

  As was the town itself. Most of the buildings looked to be turn of the century, made of red bricks with corrugated iron or wooden roofs. Tillbrook was tiny, even by country standards, but it was pretty enough. They passed the town hall on their right, a building larger than most, but still in that same, old-fashioned style, low and wide. It made the hall look comfortably indolent, rather than imposing. David felt himself relaxing at last.

  ‘Is that the motel?’ Paul asked, pointing across the road. The Inn Tillbrook was about the smallest motel David had ever seen, consisting of an office and a row of half a dozen plain units, each with a car bay outside of it. Indicating, David pulled off the road and into the motel.

  He left Paul in the car and hurried to the office, trying to stay dry. Once inside, he approached the front desk, which was not staffed. There was a little bell on it, which he rang. A minute later, a diminutive man walked in through a rear door. His hair was thin and lay flat on his head, and he looked as if he hadn’t shaved in a while.

  ‘Yeah?’

  David tried to ignore the man’s lack of professionalism. He knew from his research that this was the only motel in the town. ‘I’d like a room for the night, please. Two single beds.’

  ‘Only got doubles,’ the man said, turning around and getting a key off a rough piece of wood hanging behind the desk. ‘Room three. Thirty dollars. Up front.’

  ‘But...’ David began, but realised there was nothing to be achieved by arguing with the man. He took out his wallet and put two twenty dollar notes on the counter. The man took the money and put it somewhere down below, and returned with two crumpled fives and a small book. He opened it and put it on the counter with the change and key, pointing.

  ‘Name and address. Sign here.’

  David filled in the blanks and took his change and key. The man put the book away and walked out of the office without another word. David didn’t even get a chance to thank him. Not that he would have. Not sincerely, anyway. Putting the key and money in his pocket, he left the office and returned to the car.

  ‘How did it go?’ Paul asked his brother as he climbed back into the car. David shrugged and started it up, driving it carefully around to unit three. They both got out of the car, and David popped the boot. They grabbed their luggage - David had brought a suitcase, while it seemed Paul had just stuffed some clothes into a tattered sports bag - and climbed up the two stairs to the door.

  The key took some jiggling, but eventually the lock turned and they found themselves inside room three of the Inn Tillbrook. It was everything the rundown exterior had promised, and much less: the layout was basically a wide corridor, with an old television and couch in
a living area at the front, followed closely by a kitchenette with a small oven and refrigerator. Beyond this was a folding partition with a double bed behind it, made up with sheets that had seen better days, possibly not in David’s lifetime. There was an open door next to the bed, through which the tiny bathroom could be seen in all its mouldy glory. Lime green carpets and cheap paintings formed the finishing touches to the room. There was a single small window next to the door, with a dirty beige curtain drawn across it. It was dark and cheap and claustrophobic. David shuddered.

  Paul didn’t seem to mind. ‘Hey, it’s not so bad. Look, the oven seems to be pretty new. It’s still shiny.’

  David snorted. ‘Not a chance. Can you smell it?’

  ‘The oven?’

  ‘The paint.’ He walked into the kitchen and opened the cupboard beneath the sink, where there was an aerosol can. ‘Silver spray paint. Covers up the rust and any other marks. Cheaper than actually cleaning it.’

  Paul laughed, without malice. ‘Cheeky bastards!’ He left David in the kitchen, to check out the sleeping area.

  ‘Ooh, a double bed,’ he said, eyebrows raised. ‘Hope you don’t miss Christine during the night!’

  ‘You’re sleeping on the couch,’ David said.

  ‘Why me? Why not flip a coin for it?’

  ‘Because it’d be my coin. I’m paying for this.’

  ‘I thought the paper was paying?’

  David didn’t have an answer to this, so he went to the bed and threw his suitcase onto it. ‘You want to see the camera?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  Paul took the bait. ‘Yeah, sure.’ He walked over to the bed as David unzipped his suitcase and took out a small, black leather case, then opened it and pulled out a tiny silver box. He handed it to Paul. He looked at it, dubious.