Carnies Read online

  ‘No,’ someone whispered into his left ear.

  David jumped and turned to his left, flailing with his arms, trying to catch whoever it was in the room with him, but all his fingers found was empty air.

  ‘Over here,’ the person hissed again, this time to his right. He twisted in the direction of the voice and walked forward, arms still outstretched.

  ‘Warmer...’ the voice murmured. ‘Warmer...’

  Then David took a step, and found nothing beneath his foot. With a panicked cry he fell forwards. For the longest moment he was in freefall.

  But it was only a moment. Then his knees and hands hit a soft, springy surface, like landing on a bed, and he found himself bouncing back into the air a little, then down again. This time he stayed down, on all fours. He looked around. It was still pitch black. He wondered what the next room was.

  ‘Mr Hampden, good of you to come,’ a male voice said from in front of David, without much welcome in it. Then the room exploded into light, blinding him. He closed his eyes and got up on his knees, putting his hands in front of his face. It took a few seconds to open his eyes without it hurting. He’d been in utter darkness too long, now they needed to readjust. The coloured blobs on his retinas faded, and he could see what was around him.

  He was kneeling on a tattered single bed mattress. Behind him was a small step up, only six inches or so, which he’d fallen through. It had felt a lot higher. The room was full of coffins, and he was sure that crossing it would have involved many frightening moments, numerous taps and scratches from within them, perhaps even something bursting out of one. But that would have been with the lights turned down low. This was obviously not part of the usual haunted house routine.

  Judging by the expression of the man standing before him, arms folded, this could be a lot scarier.

  He wasn’t a large man, but seemed to command respect. He looked to be around forty, his light brown hair not quite shoulder length, and he had a full beard trimmed short. He was dressed in black clothes that had seen better days, yet were of a higher quality than those of the other carnies, and his eyes were a striking pale blue. They didn’t waver from David’s at all.

  ‘What do you want?’ David asked, still blinking to clear his vision. It was strange, but he wasn’t feeling afraid any more. Somehow the bright light and real menace that he sensed from the man was less intimidating than the darkness and fake scares that he’d been subjected to earlier. Perhaps his experience in crime reporting had hardened him to harsh realities a little.

  ‘I should be asking you that, Mr Hampden,’ the man responded. He stroked his chin with his left hand, light glinting off an ornate golden ring on his finger.

  ‘How do you know my name?’

  The man laughed then, without humour. ‘We’re carnival folk, Mr Hampden, not hermits. I read the papers. I’ve seen your photograph on your by-line. Though I must admit, I can’t say I’ve seen any stories by you for a while.’ He looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Perhaps that’s because you don’t respect people’s privacy?’

  David got to his feet, stepping off the mattress. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded, choosing to ignore the dig.

  ‘My name is Amos, Mr Hampden. I’m the manager of this carnival.’

  ‘And what do you want?’

  ‘You’ve already asked me that question,’ Amos said.

  ‘And I asked you the same question in return. Allow me to answer for you.’ He took a step forward, and David found himself stepping back. There was something about the man that seemed powerful. ‘You want a story. You want to exploit my carnival for your own gain.’ He took another step forward, and David found himself with his back against a canvas wall. ‘What I want is for you to leave us alone. That’s all we’ve ever asked for.’

  David snorted. ‘And you do that by running a public carnival?’

  ‘This is our life, Mr Hampden. It’s what we do to make ends meet.’

  ‘And wouldn’t you find that easier if you had some publicity?’ David asked. ‘You’d get more customers. You’d make more money.’

  Amos shook his head. ‘We don’t want more customers, and we make enough money to get by.’ He looked distracted for a moment. ‘Ah, they’re here.’

  A door opened behind Amos and two men walked in, escorting Paul. His brother was looking around with a strange expression on his face, as if he was taking in the sights.

  ‘Let him go, Carl,’ Amos said, and Paul was released, stumbling forward a little. He gave David a sheepish smile as he hopped a little.

  ‘He didn’t have it on him,’ the smaller of the two men said to Amos.

  ‘Check him,’ the manager said, nodding towards David.

  The two men walked towards David. As they did so, he noticed that they slouched a little when near Amos, making themselves appear to be shorter than him. It seemed to be a mark of respect, but one that David had certainly never seen before.

  Then the larger one, Carl, grabbed his upper arms. It was like having vices clamped around his biceps, the huge fingers dug deep into his flesh, even through his jacket. He yelped in pain. The smaller man rifled through his pockets, and produced both the camera and the voice recorder. He looked at them both, then put the recorder back where he found it and took the camera over to Amos. Carl released his steel grip and David staggered back, sore.

  Amos accepted the camera with a smile. He slid it out of its case and looked at it. ‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘It must be expensive.’

  David could only nod.

  Amos smiled and tossed it at Carl. ‘Think fast!’ he yelled. David’s heart leapt in his chest as he watched the digital camera soar through the air. But Carl’s reflexes were excellent despite his size. He caught the camera in one massive hand, his fingers almost engulfing it. He looked over at Amos, who nodded.

  Then he made a fist.

  ‘No!’ David cried, but it was too late. The camera crumpled in on itself under the pressure of the large man’s fingers. David could hear its fragile case snapping again and again, then the muffled crunching of its circuits and lens. And still Carl continued to crush it, breaking it further and further down. After a few seconds, the big man opened his fingers a little, and allowed the wrecked pieces of camera to trickle out and onto the floor, like an uneven stream of rough sand. Then he wiped his palms together, looking satisfied.

  Amos returned his attention to David. ‘I think it’s time you left, Mr Hampden. And take your young friend...’ He sniffed the air then, once, twice. ‘No, your brother with you.’ He gestured to the door which the men had entered through.

  David glared at the manager, but realised he was well and truly outnumbered here. Furious, he walked to the door, Paul just behind him. As he opened it, feeling the cool night air on his hot face, he turned and faced Amos again.

  ‘You’ll pay for that camera, you know. That was the property of the newspaper.’

  Amos smiled again. ‘The sign at the front of the carnival was very clear, I think. You broke the rules, not I.’

  David stood there for a moment longer, unable to think of a response, then turned and left the haunted house, his brother at his heels.

  They were at the rear of the ghost house, amongst a tangle of ropes and bales of straw, and had to walk around them to get back to the main stretch of the carnival. David strode towards the exit, fuming.

  ‘That was intense,’ Paul said from somewhere behind him. ‘Bummer about the camera, huh?’

  David stopped dead and spun around. ‘Is that all you can say? “Bummer”? That camera had the photos for my story in it! This whole trip was wasted!’

  Paul smiled. ‘Not all of it.’ He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a small black rectangle with a yellow label. ‘I’ve still got this.’

  It took David a few seconds to recognise it. When he did, his anger faded, replaced by amazement.

  ‘The memory card?’

  Paul nodded, handing it to David. ‘First rule of photography, bro. If you have
to give up your camera to someone else, always hold onto the film yourself. Stops someone else screwing up your shots.’ He grinned. ‘No offence.’

  ‘None taken,’ David responded, smiling now. ‘Paul, let’s get out of this place. I need a drink, and I think I owe you one too.’

  ‘Best plan I’ve heard tonight,’ Paul responded, walking beside his brother as they resumed their trek to the exit. ‘Let’s go raid the motel minibar!’

  ‘Yeah,’ David said, distracted, turning the memory card over and over in his hand. ‘Let’s.’

  -9-

  The air was colder than it had any right to be, in Paul’s humble opinion. He’d passed the point of shivering. Now all his muscles felt as if they’d frozen up, leaving his whole body aching like he’d been beaten with a phonebook from head to toe. He’d had no idea just how cold it got down south, without that comforting blanket of smog keeping the heat in at night. He wished he’d brought warmer clothes with him.

  It was nearly midnight, and he was a little drunk. As he stood there, in all probability, David was fast asleep back in the hotel room, warm in his tiny bed, dreaming about... well, who knows. It didn’t matter. He was doing the sensible thing, as usual.

  So why the hell was Paul standing outside the fence of the football ground, looking through the green wire mesh at the silent tents inside? He wasn’t sure himself, but he suspected it had a lot to do with a certain darkhaired woman he’d met earlier than night. He’d done dumber things for women before. Once he’d even sung outside a girl’s window. Unfortunately he’d gone to the wrong side of the apartment building, and ended up being pelted with rubbish from other irate residents. He’d had a bit to drink that night, too.

  But this was different. He’d felt some sort of strange connection with... what was her name again? Oh yeah, Rachel. There was some kind of spark there, something beyond what he’d felt before. A little voice inside his head was telling him it was just a need for intimacy, fuelled by his recent break-up, but he knew better than that. This was something else, he was sure of it. So after they’d had a few beers back at the hotel room, and David had sat down on the bed to write up notes for his story, Paul had taken the opportunity to sneak out and walk back to the carnival grounds. Though he hadn’t realised how far it was. It had seemed so close when they drove there, but on foot it was a lot further, and took its toll on his ankle. Still, at least the exercise had kept him warm. Until he’d arrived and found the gates all locked up, that was. Then the chill had started to set in.

  He could hear voices inside the football ground, beyond the dead tents that covered the perimeter. There was laughter and some music, with what sounded like a guitar being played in an inexpert but enthusiastic manner. If he really squinted, he could even make out some light coming from within the field, though the overhead electric floodlights had been switched off. There was activity in there somewhere, and Paul wanted to find it. Wanted to find her.

  Wanted her.

  His mind made up, he stood back and tossed his cane over the fence. It spun in the air like a baton, and landed a few metres inside the fence line. He shrugged. He was committed now. No way he’d make it back without his cane. Hell, he probably wouldn’t make it back anyway. He jumped up and grabbed onto the fence, his frozen fingers cracking with the sudden activity. It hurt his hands quite a bit, but he scrambled up the fence anyway, using his hands and right foot to lift himself, gritting his teeth at both the pain and the effort. He was just lucky there was no barbed wire or the like at the top, or Paul would have cut his hands to shreds. He doubted it could have hurt much more, though. Once at the top, he swung his left leg over and sat up, straddling the fence.

  There, that’s the hard part done, he thought. All downhill from here.

  He pulled his other leg over and began lowering himself down. Climbing down proved to be just as painful as climbing up. His fingers kept getting caught in the holes in the wire fence, yanking at them as he descended. Each move he made was punctuated with a pained grunt. But he soon reached the ground, letting himself fall the last couple of feet. He landed on both feet, and had to stifle a yelp of pain as his left ankle gave way under his weight and he fell to the grass. He lay there for a minute or two, completely out of breath from the exertion.

  Still, at least he wasn’t cold any more.

  Once he’d caught his breath, he clambered to his feet, trying not to put weight on his throbbing ankle, and looked around. The view from inside the fence wasn’t that much different from outside - just a bunch of dark, empty tents with nothing much going on. But still, there was the distant hubbub of happy activity, a party just out of reach. Not for long, though, if Paul had any say in it.

  He hopped over to where his cane lay in the dirt, its black shaft difficult to spot in the darkness. He limped through the tents, trying to work his way towards the centre of the football ground. He knew it wasn’t a large oval, but somehow all the tents made it seem much bigger, and turned what should have been a straightforward walk into a labyrinthine adventure quest. It reminded him of a few of the basic computer games he used to play at a friend’s house when he was in primary school. They weren’t allowed to have a video game system in their house, of course. It was hard enough convincing their father to let them watch television. So Paul used to walk to Damien’s house, a boy a year younger than him, and play on his brand new Atari 400, which was cutting edge for its time. One of the games was a simple maze in which you moved around your player, looking for the exit. No enemies, no lives, just a monotonous meander through identical looking corridors. He hadn’t liked that game. He preferred some action. Plus he was useless at solving mazes.

  He hadn’t changed that much in the decades since. After a few minutes, he knew he was lost. He couldn’t tell where the noises were coming from, or even where the fence was. He felt like he was in a huge forest of canvas and rope, and there was no way out. And the cold was starting to set in again. He wondered if he’d be found dead in the morning, frozen to the earth, preserved forever like a fly in amber. At that point, it was almost a cheering thought.

  ‘Hey!’ a voice whispered from behind him.

  He jumped and turned, startled. Standing by one of the tents, clearly visible in the moonlight, was a young woman. She looked about eighteen, and was slender, dressed in jeans and a light, long-sleeved top despite the chill in the air. She had short-cropped dark hair and a lopsided smile. She didn’t look alarmed or concerned. Just amused.

  ‘Uh... hi,’ Paul responded once his heart had calmed down a little. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t considered the possibility that he’d be spotted, though in hindsight that seemed a little naïve. No, not naïve, that wasn’t the right word at all. Stupid. Like he felt now. ‘Um...’

  ‘You’re that guy who was here earlier,’ the girl said, taking a step forward. ‘The one with the camera.’

  ‘Um...’ Paul said again.

  The girl looked him up and down, still smiling. ‘You’re cuter up close, you know.’

  ‘You... you saw me tonight?’ Paul asked, though he already knew the answer. He was impressed by his own stupidity. He wasn’t that drunk, though maybe the cold was slowing his brain down. He preferred to believe that was all it was.

  The girl took another step forward. ‘I saw you outside Rachel’s tent. I found out who you were later.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘You guys are the talk of the carnival.’

  ‘Us guys?’ For a moment, Paul thought she was referring to himself and Rachel. Perhaps she did feel the same as he... But then the penny dropped. ‘Me and David?’

  The girl nodded. ‘Your brother’s a journalist, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Paul said, out of his depth.

  ‘That’s what everyone’s saying. Amos knew who he was, but I’d never heard of him.’ She looked at Paul, curious. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Uh... Paul,’ he replied.

  ‘Hi, Paul,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m Jasmine.’

 
By reflex, he stepped towards her and took her hand. With surprising strength the young woman pulled his hand up to her face, as if she would kiss it. But instead, she sniffed it a few times, and then looked at him, her eyes unreadable.

  ‘Rachel was right,’ she said, her voice low and husky. ‘It’s there.’

  Paul yanked his hand away. Shivers that had nothing to do with the cold ran across his neck. He decided to be bold. ‘Where is she?’ he asked, trying to sound firm, but only managing to sound a bit scared, his voice breaking a little.

  Jasmine took a step back, her smile gone. ‘Rachel? Yeah, I should have known.’ Sullen, she pointed with her left hand, through a gap between the tents. ‘Just follow that row. Don’t get too close to the bonfire, though. If they spot you...’ She trailed off, then shook her head. ‘Her tent is the largest one, you can’t miss it.’ She smiled again, but Paul didn’t think it was genuine this time.

  ‘Thanks, Jasmine,’ he said, still sounding spooked. ‘Um...’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I won’t tell anyone you were here. I promise.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said again, and hurried off in the direction she’d pointed. After a few steps, he turned and looked back, but she was already gone.

  Okay, that was bizarre, he thought, as he walked between two rows of tents. He was at their rear, which was most likely a good thing. And the noise of people talking and singing was getting louder.

  Then he saw light flickering from around the corner of one of the tents in front of him. Cautiously, he moved up to it and peeked around.

  He was looking at the centre of the circles of tents at last. In the middle of a large open area was a huge bonfire. Around this, the carnies were all either sitting, standing or dancing. There was a man playing a beaten-up guitar, singing in a language Paul didn’t recognise, but which sounded European. A few men and women were whirling around to this music, while others were clapping in time and cheering. Paul recognised a few of the faces, including the two men who had escorted him to the haunted house earlier that night. They looked so different now though, smiling and drinking and laughing.