A shadow moved across the night’s sky. There was another scream as the creatures spotted the men.
“Move!” I screamed at them.
In a heartbeat, two of the vampires were amongst us. They moved too fast.
Jamie dodged one. It was Finn. Jamie shot at him. Finn dodged the bullets and lunged at Jamie. Jamie slid to the ground, under and behind the vampire.
I ran toward them. Grabbing the last vial of holy water from my vest, I rushed the creature.
When Finn caught sight of me, he went in for the kill.
I unstopped the liquid and just as Finn was about to grab me, I rained holy water across his face.
He screeched a horrific cry, clutching his face. He melted into the ground, crumbling into a heap of ash.
Then I heard Mr. Jones scream. Matilda had grabbed him. She hovered about ten feet in the air, snapped his neck, and dropped him.
Next, she made a move toward Buddie who shot an arrow through her throat. It slowed her. She stopped to pull it out, an annoyed expression on her face.
Will swept in behind her. Lighting one of the liquor bottles, he pitched it at her. Before she had time to react, it exploded, raining fire all over her. She wailed in agony.
I looked up. More shadowed figures moved across the horizon.
“Now, now, let’s go,” I screamed. We took off through the weeds. Down we went through the brush and onto the marsh. We rushed through the swampy water to the stone-lined shore.
Larry had the last of the survivors rowed half way to the island.
“We’re fucked,” Will said.
“We have to get to the island. They can’t touch us there. Go, go, swim,” I yelled at them.
“What about you?” Dusty asked.
“Jeff and Gary are still out there.”
“Layla, go, you’re the only one who really knows what to do,” Jamie said.
Just then, the shadowy shapes of Rumor and Katya appeared near the hotel. They were scanning for us.
“Go, go, let’s go,” Jamie said and pulled me toward the water.
“But--”
“Now, Layla, move your ass,” Buddie said.
We went crashing into the water. It was bitterly cold. I could feel the heavy weight of my equipment on me and suddenly I worried I might not make it. Adrenaline pushing me forward, I forced myself to swim. The boat was just nearing the shoreline. As I swam, I saw Larry unload the rest of the people and hustle them up the bank. In the darkness, I saw the shadowed crowd watching the events unfold in horror. I could not imagine the sight: the hotel burning, the other survivors swimming, the vampires hunting.
As I emerged from the water, I heard an ear-piercing scream. Rumor had spotted us. Dusty and Will helped me stand. We turned. In full flight, Katya and Rumor darted over the water. At the same moment, Jeff and Gary crashed through the marshy brush onto the shore of Enita Island. Not seeing the vampires, Jeff called out.
“Layla,” he screamed.
Rumor turned and in the blink of an eye, she fell upon him. She smashed him under her foot like a fly. She reached down, plucking his head off, and drank blood from the trunk of his neck. She then threw the bloody head across the water to me.
Jeff’s head rolled across the beach, his agape mouth and wide eyes staring at me.
Katya grabbed Gary. Twisting his neck, she sank her fangs into him.
Jamie and Buddie emerged from the water. We all turned toward the bankside.
“Don’t look, just go,” I said.
“Ah, Ms. Katana, you forgot someone, no?” Rumor called to me.
I turned back. Out of nowhere, Ian was standing beside Rumor.
Jamie stopped. He turned and took two steps back toward the water.
The HarpWind was completely engulfed in flame. Orange light began to fill the night’s sky.
Rumor then took Ian by the waist and they hovered across the water coming to land just inches off shore.
“What is this place?” Ian asked her.
“Sun island. Don’t take another step ashore. It will burn you alive,” Rumor replied. She, however, was much bolder. “You come here and burn my house, do you,” she said to me as she took a step toward the island.
I drew my sword.
She looked at it and then at me. “And you lie as well,” she added, switching to dialect.
“If I must,” I replied in Russian, “but I didn’t come looking for trouble. You did.”
“Eh,” she said with a shrug, “one must eat.”
She was just out of my reach, and she knew it. She was baiting me, and I knew it.
I looked at Ian. He stood in the water watching us. I could not read his expression.
Realizing at last that I would not take the bait, she lunged at me.
I stepped back deeper onto the shoreline. It did not seem to faze her. She crashed hard into me, knocking my sword from my hand. I saw it shine just once in the moonlight and then fall into the water.
She was unbelievably strong. I fell. She grabbed me by the boot and pulled me back into the water.
Jamie lunged at her. She let go of me, moving to defend herself, and knocked him back. He flew several feet and crashed onto the rocks. Dusty rushed forward and pulled him back toward the bank. It looked like he was unconscious. I heard an arrow whoosh overhead. It caught Rumor in the shoulder.
She paused. In that moment I bounced back onto my feet and pulled the poyasni doe- and wolf-headed daggers from my boots. The guns were soaked. She pulled the arrow from her shoulder and lunged at me. I dodged her advance and took a swipe at her. It connected; I slashed a long line across her face. Blood dripped from the wound for a moment and then healed itself. She smiled at me and lunged again. I bounced back closer toward the shore. Rumor pursued me but her feet had begun to smolder. She jumped, pushing me sideways, knocking me into the waves, knocking us both away from the island.
I rebalanced myself and lunged again, this time cutting a thin line across her throat. It was a close cut, but I had not hit home. Enraged, she came at me. She crashed into me. I fell backward. The water rushed over my face. My head hit a rock on the lake bottom. I struggled but could not move. I opened my eyes but saw only black waves. I could feel the weight of her hands on my neck, her knee on my chest. I tried to push her off but could not.
I heard the sound of gunfire, but she seemed unfazed.
My eyes fluttered closed. In a fragment of a second, I saw my grandmother smile at me. The next second, I felt Rumor’s hands release from my neck, and I was pulled from the water. Someone lifted me and carried me back to the shore, setting me down gently. I coughed hard, spitting out the lake water, and sat up, opening my eyes.
Ian stood over me, my shashka in his hand. Rumor’s body, her red dress fanning all around her, floated, decapitated, in the water. Her head lay on the shoreline. It flickered then burnt into a pile of ash.
Katya shrieked and fled.
Ian handed my sword to me. He looked back at Jamie who lay unconscious and then turned again to me. He smiled softly. For a moment, I saw the old Ian in his eyes. Then he burst into flame. I reached toward him, but within seconds Ian was gone.
Moments later, Buddie and Dusty pulled me, half-drowned and in a state of shock, onto the bank. Jamie was just coming around to consciousness; he was leaning between Will and Larry. At the inferno that was now the HarpWind above us, we heard the shrieking sounds of the remaining vampires. I pulled myself together and went to the front of the group.
“This way,” I said and led them to the far side of the island.
The moonlight barely illuminated our path in the dark, but when we came to stand above the labyrinth, a strange glow filled the place. The rocks which had seemed so mundane in the light of day had an eerie blue hue. The labyrinth’s snake effigy form glowed.
“What is this place?” Summer asked.
“A doorway,” I replied.
“To where?” Frenchie asked.
“Anywhere but here,” I said. I
led them down the stairs and into the labyrinth. We turned around and around the labyrinth until we reached the middle.
“Follow it to its end,” I said. “The gateway should be open.”
Everyone looked scared. Buddie nodded at me and took the lead. One by one, they traced the spiraling stones. As each reached the middle, they disappeared. Jamie paused before he passed through. I nodded to him, and he took the final steps. Once they had all gone, I paused. Smoke billowed on the horizon, fingers of fire trailing up into the night’s sky. It cast a haze on the moon. I took a deep breathe. Following the serpent’s tongue, I too passed through the gateway to a new world.
Chapter 33: The Parallel
September
“Tilt-a-whirl, tilt-a-whirl, tilt-a-whirl! Come on ride my tilt-a-whirl! I’ll whirl you round the world,” I barked to the mostly empty aisles at the Bowling Green fairground.
Two young boys came up to my line. They were the only two kids around. The older looked to be about twelve. The younger, a good three inches under my height bar, had pulled himself up to full height and tried not to meet my eye.
“Tickets,” I said to them.
Confidently, the older boy handed me his ticket and passed through. The younger boy hesitated. Guessing he’d be alright, I let him through. I heard the older boy slap him a high-five when they thought they were out of earshot.
I turned the key and started the ride. The boys smiled back at me. I waved to them.
“Hey Cricket,” Harv, the balloon-pop agent across the aisle, called to me. “Where is everyone? Bowling Green is usually packed. I’m gonna go hungry.”
I leaned over the gate and twirled my blonde braid, checking out the split ends. “I heard someone say it’s the flu keepin’ people home. You know they closed LAX? I hear it’s gettin’ real serious. You get a flu shot?”
“Naa. You know, Bud’s got it. He’s been laid up in his RV all day.”
“Anyone been by to see him?”
Harv shrugged. “He’s grouchy when he feels good. I don’t imagine he’d be a barrel of laughs when he’s sick.”
“No man is. Even the common cold has you all actin’ like a bunch of babies.”
“This coming from a blonde,” Harv replied with a laugh.
“You better watch yourself. I’ll come pop your balloons.”
“Baby, a grenade couldn’t pop those balloons,” he said with a laugh.
I turned back to the boys. They were all smiles; round and round they spun. Since no one else was around, I let it run until they signaled they’d had enough.
Around nine o’clock that night the owner, Mr. Marx, came by. I had not seen a soul on the fairway since the boys left. “Sorry, Cricket. We’re going to tear down to get ready for the jump to Cincinnati. We’re just burning juice and not making a dime. This place is dead; not a soul here.”
“Alright then,” I replied, and Mr. Marx wandered off. I realized he hadn’t said a word about when he would pay us for Bowling Green, dead or not.
I whistled for Puck, my mangy mixed breed and the only male I swore I would ever truly love. The hound-shepherd mix appeared; he looked dirty and happy. I’d found him about a year ago. Just as we were about to leave Crawford County fairgrounds, I saw a small bundle shaking in the grass. There he was. A mischievous little devil, Vella, the Tarot reader, gave me the idea for his name: Puck.
“Up to no good, were ya?” I asked, scratching him on the head. He licked my hand and wagged his tale. I closed up my till and headed to the bunk house to look for some extra muscle to help with the tear down. As I passed through the midway I saw most of the other joints and booths were already closed. Mama Rosie was just closing up the snake show when I came by.
“Marx closed down everyone up here already?” I asked her.
“They’re all sick, Sug,” she replied as she dropped one of her small snakes into her bra. I shook just watching her. Everyone loved Mama Rosie, but no one understood her relationship with her “babies.” She always had one hanging out of her bra, hanging around her neck, or stuffed in her clothes. Mama was a big woman who liked to wear baggy, loud colored gowns. I hated sitting next to her at dinner. You never knew when one of the “babies” might suddenly slither out of her hibiscus-print dress.
I set my box down and helped her push the trailer door closed. “How about you, Mama? You feelin’ alright?”
“I think I got something bad to eat at lunch, but I’ll be fine. You headed back to the bunks?”
“I guess. I was hopin’ Beau and the boys would come give me a hand.”
“Sug, Beau would give you a hand, arm, leg, or toe if you asked. Why don’t you give that boy a chance?”
“Oh, Mama Rosie, I don’t feel nothin’ like that for him.”
“But you run off with townies often enough.”
“Well, we all have needs.”
Mama Rosie laughed. “You got that right. I thought you were hoping someone would marry you out of the life.”
“And give up all this?”
Mama Rosie laughed again, her boisterous laughter filling the empty aisles.
While the smell of popcorn, Chinese food, funnel cakes, and fried sausage still filled the air, there was no one around. Power was still on, so the midway still sparkled in a rainbow of light, but the place was like a ghost town. I had never seen it like that, and since I’d practically grown up in the carnival, that was saying something. Several game booth agents had even left their plush still hanging—now that was odd.
As Mama and I passed by Iago’s Traveling Torture show, I winced to see Mr. Iago coming out. After three years of traveling with Great Explorations carnival, I had yet to warm up to Mr. Iago. His show was creepy. I’d once had a look inside. The place was hung with all kinds of pictures of people being tortured, and he had old torture devices like the rack, an iron maiden, a wheel of fortune, and other small harmful contraptions. Mr. Iago was as creepy as his show. On the outside he looked normal enough, just a funny-looking little bald man with too big-ears and a pointed nose, but it was what I felt coming from inside him that set me on edge. I never looked him in the eye.
“Mama Rosie, Cricket,” he called politely.
“You headed back too, Mr. Iago?” Mama called cheerfully.
“Yes, Ma’am, I am,” he replied politely.
“You make any scratch today?” Mama asked him.
“Well, I don’t like to discuss finances,” he told her in his quiet manner.
“He don’t like to discuss finances,” Mama said mockingly to me. “Alright, Mr. Iago. You just go on with yourself then.”
“No offense, Mama Rosie,” he replied quietly.
“Of course not,” she replied and rolled her eyes at me.
When we got back to the bunk houses there were half a dozen people sitting outside at a picnic table listening to the radio. I spotted Mr. and Mrs. Chapman. They owned three of the grab joints; Mrs. Chapman waved to us. She was a biblical woman whose savory homemade corn dog breading had won top prize at a competition last year. If you didn’t mind hearing her recite verse all day, she was fine to be around. Red and Neil, two ride jockeys, were there as well. Red ran Big Eli; Neil ran the swings. The resident lot lizard, Cici, was snuggled up to Ned. I was surprised to also see Vella there. Vella, the Tarot reader, was a Romanian immigrant who called herself the only authentic Roma, which she said meant gypsy, in America. Even though she was just a little older than me, Vella scared me. She’d never done anything to me and was really nice, but she scared me all the same. The others said she was dead-on accurate with her readings and often had bad news to give. I didn’t want to be around anything like that.
“What’s on the news?” Mama Rosie asked.
“Lord, help us! This flu is something else. They have quarantined almost every city on the west coast: LA, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco . . . you name it. They got the national guard on the highways keeping people out,” Mrs. Chapman said.
She was quiet then, and we lis
tened: “And inside Portland Central Hospital, military personnel have opened fire on seemingly rabid patients,” a female reporter was saying. “Reports from the scene indicate that a riot broke out at the hospital when patients, suffering from side-effects of what now seems to be a pandemic flu, began to attack other hospital patients and employees. CDC officials have confirmed that increased violence appears to be associated with the afflicted and continue to advise everyone to avoid direct physical contact with those with the illness. Martial law has been instituted in all major west coast cities and cities across the south. Cities across the north-east and central US have issued curfew and encouraged businesses to close their doors until the illness is contained. As a result, there have been reports of runs on banks, grocery stores, and fueling stations.”
“What are they sayin’ on T.V.?” I asked.
Red shook his head. “We can’t get a signal in. No one’s dishes are working.”
“President was on. Told everyone to be calm,” Cici said.
“Easy for him to say. They probably got him stashed in a bunker somewhere,” Mr. Chapman replied.
“Highways are gonna be backed up. And nobody’s gonna be interested in a fair, not in Bowling Green and not in Cincinnati. But I bet if we don’t jump, Marx is gonna stiff us,” I told the others.
They nodded.
“Well, if ya’ll give me a hand I’ll pay back the favor,” I told Red and Neil.
“No problem, Cricket. You see Beau around?”
I shook my head. “I just came lookin’ for him.”
“He’s sick,” Vella said. She rarely spoke, so when she did, we all turned to her. “Leave him be,” she added.
I had noticed Vella had been shuffling her cards the whole time we’d been listening to the radio. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“What do the cards say about this flu, Vella? Should we hit the road? Stay put?” Mama Rosie asked.
“Devil’s work,” Mrs. Chapman whispered under her breath.
“They say the same thing over and over again—the Tower,” she said and laid out a card for us to see.
The Harvesting Page 20