The Change 2: New York

by Guy Adams

  Then that damned tiger had taken his hand and the bookings dried up. Nobody, it seemed, quite trusted a big game hunter who had let his prey get too close.

  How the mighty had fallen. He had taken the only job he could find, conqueror of empires reduced to public entertainer. They didn’t mind his false hand here, no, quite the reverse.

  ‘It gives the audiences a thrill,’ Sam Gumpertz had said, ‘it reminds them how dangerous the cats are.’ Gumpertz was in charge of the acts, he knew a great deal about theatricality but nothing about wild animals. The big cats Colonel Gerry wrangled in the ring were about as dangerous as domestic tabbies. Old and heavily sedated, it was all he could do sometimes to get the damn things to move. Half of his whip work was to keep them awake.

  If it hadn’t been for Gloria, life would have been entirely miserable. Gloria… if only she had returned to life as he had, not the celluloid dream she appeared as now but the real woman, the warm flesh and blood that had coaxed him through his latter years.

  Why had she not come back like the rest of them?

  He made his way through the bathing pavilion as a shortcut to the miniature Swiss railway. He felt sure he would be able to find a clear line of sight from one of its rocky promontories, pick the little freaks off one by one. He should have done this from the start, he decided, clean the place up. What were any of them for? The freaks and the wasters? The abominations? Yes. Get rid of the lot of them, clear the place out like they had in India, sweep the dead wood aside and build afresh.

  Gloria would understand eventually, he was sure of it.

  Together they would take over the park, the quiet, dormant park, and make it a place they could live out their years in, however many that may be—it was so hard to be sure, didn’t he have vague memories of dying? Older and wasted, body falling apart… The drink? he thought it may have been the drink…

  No. That can’t have happened, not if he was here now. A second chance. Yes. The clock wound back to when he had still had Gloria—in whatever form, anything was better than nothing—and life could still be worthwhile.

  It was a blessing, that’s what it was. A blessing he would defend until he had no more bullets with which to do so.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘WHERE ARE WE going?’ asked Fabrizzi, quite irritated at having to run, it did so crumple his suit.

  ‘Bostock’s arena!’ shouted Demi-John who had proven extremely speedy on his trolly. It was strapped to him, allowing him to move with ease, vaulting down steps and hopping over obstacles. He propelled himself along with his hands, like a bodyboarder traversing the waves.

  ‘And what do we hope to find there?’ God asked. ‘Other than lots of animals that will probably try and eat us?’

  ‘Tranquilizers!’ Demi-John replied. ‘They used them on all the wild animals to keep them doped and slow.’

  They re-emerged from the racetrack. Peeper checked for sign of Colonel Gerry before gesturing for them to cross the strip of open ground between the racetrack and the Canals of Venice ride.

  ‘If we can dose the apples,’ Demi-John continued, ‘then the babies will eat them, be out for the count and we can get them all back under lock and key.’

  ‘I like this boy,’ said God, ‘he has a good mind.’

  ‘Well,’ said Fabrizzi, ‘so did Horlicks until the Colonel splattered it all over the ground.’

  Lucy punched him on the arm. ‘If you haven’t got anything good to say then don’t say anything.’

  Fabrizzi rolled his eyes as if, once again, he was the only person there still in possession of his marbles.

  The Canals of Venice ride featured miniature canals and bridges, a chocolate box confection of Venice reproduced in a winding boat ride for lazy New York lovers.

  ‘Is this the quickest way?’ asked Grace as they ran alongside one of the trickling canals.

  ‘No,’ admitted Demi-John, ‘but I’m trying to get us there without putting us in the open too much. The Colonel will be on our heels, just waiting for the opportunity to take a shot.’

  The renewal that was affecting the park was starting to make itself felt here too, the gondolas that sailed along the canals were becoming brighter, their gold-paint more brilliant.

  ‘How long before the park wakes up completely?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s gradual,’ said Lucy, ‘the last time it happened it was an hour or so before it became really alive.’

  ‘That’s still not long,’ Grace replied. ‘I don’t want to cause you more problems..’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ said Lucy, taking Grace’s hand. ‘It’s good to help someone out for a change rather than the usual bickering and politics.’

  ‘And sneaking peeks at me whenever you can!’ laughed Fabrizzi. ‘Don’t think I don’t notice.’

  ‘This way!’ Demi-John shouted, shoving a hidden door open that led out of the Venice ride and into the open air again.

  They were on a bumper car track and Demi-John encouraged them out carefully.

  He pointed up. ‘We have to hope he’s not up there because there’s no cover until we get to the shooting gallery at the other side.’

  ‘I’ll go first,’ said God, ‘least I can do. After all, it’s not as if he can kill me anyway.’

  He strolled out onto the track before Grace could argue, strolling casually towards the shooting gallery at the other side.

  Halfway across he stopped and turned back to face them.

  ‘Seems cool,’ he said.

  At that moment, the bumper cars, the renewing energy caused by Grace and God’s presence having buffed-up their brightly-coloured exteriors to an amazing sheen, began to move. One, painted a bright red and white check, slammed into God and it was only his quick reflexes that stopped it running him over. As it was, he fell across its front, gripping the rim of the driver’s cabin, and was immediately transported in wide circles around the track. The sack of apples dangled from one hand as he gripped on to it.

  Grace ran to try to help but all the cars were now moving, all aiming for a different member of the party, eager to bump them to death.

  ‘Get across as quick as you can,’ shouted Demi-John, grabbing the rear bumper of one of the cars so that it pulled him along. As it spun to face him, he let go, the momentum sending his trolly rolling across the track where he vaulted the barrier and landed with a clatter on the other side.

  ‘Quick as you can he says,’ moaned Fabrizzi, running as fast as his legs could take him. ‘Easy for him to say, he’s on wheels.’

  A black and gold car bore down on him. Lucy, running alongside him, shoved him just seconds before it hit. He tumbled to the ground, grazed but alive.

  ‘I knew you loved me!’ he cried, getting back to his feet and jumping over the barrier just after her.

  Grace and Peeper were trying to grab hold of God. They looked like bullfighters in the ring, darting one way and then the other as the car spun and shifted direction.

  ‘You need to let go!’ Grace shouted to him.

  ‘I should,’ he agreed, ‘it can’t hurt after all.’ He didn’t look at all convinced.

  Peeper jumped into the driver’s cab and, with all of her strength, managed to force the wheel so that it drove in a straight line towards the barrier.

  ‘Jump when I say,’ she told God. ‘The barrier’s soft, it should help.’

  ‘Bless you, kid,’ God replied, trying to smile beneficently through his whipping beard.

  ‘Now!’

  God turned and jumped, winding himself on the barrier but toppling over the other side relatively unharmed, the sack landing on top of him.

  The car bounced back and Peeper jumped out, falling to the ground as it turned to face her, speeding forward.

  Grace lifted her up and they both toppled to safety just as the car hit the barrier a second time, missing them by moments.

  ‘God does not enjoy the fairground,’ said God, fighting to catch a breath, ‘it is very stupid.’

  Chapter Thir
ty-One

  COLONEL GERRY HAD watched the last few seconds of all this from the roof of the Venice Canal ride. Hadn’t he said that the park would become lethal if the intruders weren’t dealt with?

  There was no shot to be had, not now they had cleared the track and were beneath the awning on the other side. The angles were wrong and he didn’t plan on wasting more bullets.

  Where were they going? What was their plan?

  He needed to think like a hunter, he needed to track them, anticipate them, trap them.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  GRACE WAS LOOKING at Demi-John’s hands; his palms were badly grazed but he waved her away. ‘I’ve had worse,’ he said. ‘And we haven’t got time to fuss. We need to get through the shooting gallery, there’s a maintenance door in the rear that will take us into Creation.’

  ‘Creation?’ God asked, sure they were heading for familiar, religious grounds.

  ‘A hinky ride that shows you how the world was made.’

  God chuckled. ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

  ‘Then we’re there?’ asked Grace.

  ‘Pretty much,’ Demi-John agreed. All of the rides have maintenance doors leading between them so the mechanics could wander around out of sight of the punters. We can go from Creation right into Bostock’s.’

  ‘Let’s get on with it then!’ said Fabrizzi. ‘The sooner we’ve got these two to where they need to be, the sooner we can get back to normal around here.’

  Peeper looked around. She was sure she’d seen something moving, a shadow passing over them. Probably one of the babies, she decided, scurrying around on the hunt for food.

  They moved into the shooting gallery, unaware that Colonel Gerry was still hot on their trail.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  IN THE SHADOWS beneath the bumper car awning, a flicker of light crackled.

  ‘Oh, my poor, deluded soldier,’ it whispered, ‘what is to become of you?’

  Gloria found it hard moving in the open, slipping from one shadow to the next. If she stayed in the light too long she could feel herself dissipating, fading away to nothing. She had needed to spend a couple of minutes beneath a bridge in the Swiss railway, restoring herself after her dash in the sun between the Japanese Tea Rooms and the safety of the buildings.

  She wished she could talk to her dear Colonel, to somehow calm him down and convince him there was no need for what he was doing.

  Did he think she wouldn’t be watching as he shot that poor man from Midget City? Did he think she cared so little for him that she wouldn’t be following him every step of the way?

  Perhaps it would have been better for both of them if they had never come back. She remembered how they had drifted apart after the park had closed down. Colonel Gerry lapsing further and further into drink, not knowing how to carry on now his job had once more been taken from him. She’d provided for them of course, hadn’t her career blossomed just as his had dwindled? But he didn’t like that, did he? Didn’t like being “kept” by his actress lover.

  She remembered the day she had finally walked away, unable to watch him self-destruct a moment longer. It had all but broken her but she couldn’t watch him die, that would be too much to bear.

  And now they were back together. Ghosts perhaps, or dreams give form, she didn’t know. Didn’t care. It was what they had, and, again, her destructive soldier was trying to tear it apart. How she wished he could learn.

  Feeling strong for her rest in the darkness, she pushed on, only hoping she might be able to do something before he went too far.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  DEMI-JOHN LED THEM through the shooting gallery and into the large, domed building that housed Creation. Inside, a circular canal ran for over 300 metres, ferrying a large boat through painted panorama of the biblical history of the world.

  ‘Six thousand years!’ God shouted. ‘They’re saying the world’s been here for six thousand years?’

  He kicked at a grotesque painted display. ‘Read a book you ignoramuses, it’s people like you that give me a bad name.’

  ‘Can we keep moving?’ asked Lucy, ‘I don’t care if the world’s six thousand years old or sixty…’

  ‘Sixty?’ God was beside himself, ‘try four and a half billion years! And that’s just this planet. The universe is much older, just shy of fourteen billion.’

  ‘Well,’ Lucy sighed, ‘whatever. I’ll think about that long and hard in all the time I have left to me once the Colonel’s shot me.’

  ‘Hmm…’ God looked abashed. ‘Yes, well, maybe I need to think about my priorities, fair enough. I just get so…’ He kicked the display again. ‘Creationists make my holy balls itch.’

  ‘Thus spake the Lord,’ said Fabrizzi with a laugh.

  Demi-John was at the far side of the dome now. he waved Grace over.

  ‘Help me with the door would you?’ he asked. ‘Handle’s just too high for me.’

  ‘Course,’ she tried it. It was locked.

  ‘Leave it to me, said Peeper, ‘I’m good with locks.’

  She reached into the front pouch of her bib pants and pulled out the thin strips of metal she had used earlier on the racetrack gate.

  ‘What’s it like out there?’ she asked Grace. ‘You know, in the real world.’

  ‘Weird,’ Grace replied, ‘there’s really no other word for it.’

  ‘Got to be better than in here though,’ Peeper replied, ‘me and Demi-John spend most of our days looking after the others and getting nothing but grief for it. You think that maybe, when you go, we could come with you?’

  She turned to Demi-John who shrugged. ‘Hey, who knows if we even exist beyond this place? Maybe we can’t leave?’

  ‘I’m willing to give it a try if you are,’ Peeper replied.

  ‘I need to find my brother,’ Grace explained, ‘he’s probably in Rikers prison, or maybe he’s not anymore but that’s the only place I know where to look so…’ she shrugged, ‘if you want to come with me then that’s fine by me.’

  It was weird she thought, how she had spent so much of her life being alone and yet now, when it had all gone to Hell, she was gathering friends faster than ever before.

  The lock clicked and Peeper pushed the door open.

  ‘Find your brother, yeah, we can do that. I’m great at looking for stuff!’

  ‘Come on you guys!’ Demi-John shouted. ‘We’re in.’

  They stepped through into the rear of Bostock’s Arena and were immediately hit by the animal smell. Old straw, meat and dung, all bundled together into something both sweet and nauseous.

  ‘How safe you think this is?’ Fabrizzi asked, peering into the shadows.

  ‘This is Dreamland,’ Lucy replied, ‘nothing is safe these days.’

  It was dark and Grace found herself staring at the bars of a small cage containing nothing she could see but shadows.

  It hit her suddenly. The cabin. Her home for so long. The place that had nearly been the ruin of her at the same time as saving her from The Change.

  The breath caught in her throat and she was back there, back in the cage.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ‘IT’S FOR YOUR own good, girl,’ said Uncle Ray, turning the long metal key in the lock. ‘It’s a terrible world out there, full of crazy, godless, devils. I’ve seen the way they are. I’ve seen the way they behave.’

  Grace said nothing. She knew from experience that no words would turn Uncle Ray from his path. He would lock her in the cage, insist she said her prayers and eventually, when his righteous fury had simmered down a little, he would let her back out.

  It’s not as if the cage even made much difference, not really. The cabin was miles away from anywhere and he didn’t let her use her laptop or phone, not anymore. She was as trapped on one side of the bars as the other. If she kept quiet, kept her head down, he might not hit her and that was the best that could be hoped for.

  The stupidity of it all didn’t escape her, her stuck in one cell, her
brother in another. What had she done to deserve it?

  ‘If you say your prayers, and say them real good,’ Uncle Ray told her, ‘I’ll let you out in a couple of hours or so. I am not an unreasonable man. I am a man who loves you. I am a man who is willing to do what needs to be done to set you on the path of righteousness, the path that leads to God’s love.’

  There was no telling what would set him off. A misplaced word, a look in your eye, sometimes Uncle Ray just saw the devil creep in and then you either fought him—and got the belt for your trouble—or you accepted your fate and waited out the solitary confinement here in the ‘Cage of Jesus’. It was never for too long, overnight at the worst. You did your time and moved on.

  But that day had been different hadn’t it? Because that had been the day of The Change. The day the sky had opened up and Uncle Ray had got conclusive proof of the devil he had always known was lurking just out of sight.

  He hadn’t seen it directly, he’d been praying in the corer of his bedroom, hollering hosannahs to the very heights of Heaven. But he’d seen it later, seen the video of it that had ended up circling the Internet a couple of times before the Feds finally shut it down.

  Grace hadn’t seen the video of course, Uncle Ray had been quite convinced that even a glimpse of it would ‘taint her soul’. In a way, he’d been right.

  ‘Please Uncle Ray,’ she begged, ‘you’ve got to let me out now.’