Midway: The Harvesting Series Book 2

by Melanie Karsak

  As I turned down one of the aisles toward the rides, I thought I saw Beau’s hulking figure standing in the row facing the other direction. He was just standing there between the lemonade stand and the sugar shack. I couldn’t see him clearly in the fog. It looked like he had his back toward me; I only saw his outline. I was about to call out to him when Puck let out a very low and very serious growl. It was a sound I’d never heard him make before. I looked down to see Puck’s ears were flat and his hackles up.

  Beau turned and walked off in the other direction.

  I firmed up my grip on my pipe wrench, and we headed toward the rides. When I got to the Big Eli, I was surprised to see no one was around. The ride was untouched. I stood there trying to decide what to do when I heard someone walking toward me. I could tell by the jingling sound that it was Vella; she always wore anklets with small bells.

  “Hey Cricket,” she called lightly. I could tell she was trying to sound cheerful, but I could hear the worry in her voice. She looked ready to go. While she still had her long, curly black hair covered in a scarf, she’d given up her colorful skirt for a pair of jeans and a red embroidered blouse. Kathy at the incense joint had started selling all kinds of embroidered shirts and dresses. Vella must have gotten the top there. Any time you saw Vella in jeans and out of “reader” gear, it was time to go.

  “Guess no one else is up yet,” I said, looking around. “Well, maybe Beau, but I’m not sure.”

  “I’m all packed. When are you heading out?”

  “I was gonna go hook the truck up now since Red is still snoozin’. He’ll probably be up by the time I’m done. I need to help with the teardown, then we’ll head out.”

  Vella’s forehead crinkled with worry.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think we better go. This flu . . .” she trailed off.

  She was right. If everyone at the bunk was sick, no doubt we’d catch it too if we stayed around much longer. Puck trotted over to her and licked her hand.

  “You agree, huh?” I asked the dog who wagged his tail at me.

  “All right then. Let’s go check on Mama Rosie, and then we can head out.”

  Vella nodded, and we walked back up the aisle to the snake show. Mama was outside. She had just rolled up the awning on the truck which was already running. Her forehead was dripping; she was soaked in sweat.

  “You okay, Mama?” I asked.

  She jumped. “Good lord, Cricket. You scared me. This mist is thick as pea soup. It’s something, ain’t it?”

  “It sure is.”

  “We are walking in the shadow land,” Vella said in a hollow voice.

  I frowned; Vella’s words spooked me. “Mama Rosie, you don’t look like you’re feelin’ good.”

  “Ahh, Crick, that shrimp I ate yesterday had a wang to it. I knew I was gonna be in for a long ride, but I’ll be fine. You two headed out?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll meet you at the exit,” Mama said as she grabbed the van door handle.

  “I already moved my Bronco to the west parking lot by your truck. I’ll walk with you,” Vella told me.

  With a wave, Mama Rosie pulled the traveling snake show onto the aisle. Driving slowly, she headed toward the gate.

  Vella and I traveled back to the parking lot. I noticed that Mr. Iago had already left. I was glad. The further away he was from me the better.

  “I don’t like him either,” Vella said then stopped and grabbed my arm.

  Coming out of the fog, there were about four people moving slowly down the aisle toward us. Just by the way they were walking, you could tell they were up to no good. Again, Puck growled that low, dangerous growl.

  I felt like my skin was about to crawl off me. “Thieves?” I whispered to Vella.

  “I don’t know, but let’s go,” she whispered and pulled me between the duck pond and the t-shirt joint. We were headed down an aisle away from the figures when I turned and looked behind us. The figures were moving faster and coming in our direction.

  “Stop a sec,” I whispered to Vella.

  “What? No way! Come on,” she replied.

  “Vella, your bells,” I whispered to her, pointing to her ankles. The tinkling sound of her anklets had echoed through the fog as we fled.

  Vella swore a slew in Romanian as she quickly kicked the anklets off.

  We could see the figures coming closer toward us. For a minute, I thought I saw someone wearing a hat just like Red’s.

  Vella pulled me by the arm.

  “Wait, is that Red?” I whispered, looking back.

  “Wouldn’t Red call out?” Vella replied. “Come on,” she said, pulling me again.

  We ran between the booths and made our way to the gate. As we snuck through the fairground, we saw lots of people standing around in the fog. That was the odd thing. They were just standing there: not moving, not talking, just standing there. Every muscle in my body was pulled tight. They weren’t thieves. They were something else.

  Just as we turned the corner near the high striker, we ran into Beau.

  “Beau? You all right? There are people all over the grounds. Something weird is goin’ on!”

  Vella took two steps back. Puck uttered a growl, showing his teeth.

  Beau, who had been standing with his back to me, turned. His face had gone pale white. Strange frothy saliva leaked from his mouth. His chin was covered in blood, and his white t-shirt was also stained red. His eyes were a terrible milk-white color and red shot all through them like you see sometimes in an over-developed egg yolk. I gasped. Beau hissed, and then lunged toward me.

  “Cricket, look out,” Vella screamed.

  I moved just in time. Beau stumbled over the machine and fell. He got up, slowly, and came at me again. I swiped him across the chin with the pipe wrench. His chin broke and hung slack. He looked at me and lunged again.

  Puck jumped between us and growled, momentarily confusing Beau. I lifted the wrench again just in time to see Vella lift the high striker mallet and lower it onto Beau’s head. There was a terrible cracking noise, and then Beau went down, blood pouring from his ears.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered, my hands shaking. “Oh my God, you killed Beau!”

  “That. . .that wasn’t Beau! Let’s go!”

  We bolted out of the gate and into the parking lot. I was headed toward my truck when Vella called to me. “No, Cricket! Look! There’s no time.” She was pointing back at the fairground. Ambling down the aisle toward the gate were at least a dozen people, all carnie folks we knew, who looked to be in the same condition as Beau. Red was at the front. Blood was smeared across his face. Every one of them looked like they were aiming to kill us. From somewhere in the park, I heard a woman scream. It sounded like Mrs. Chapman.

  “But the tilt,” I called to Vella.

  “No, you’ll never make it,” Vella yelled. “Come on!”

  “I can’t leave it here!”

  “Cricket, we’ve got to run or we’re going to die!”

  We both rushed toward her old Ford Bronco sitting just near the gate. Vella slid into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. Puck and I jumped in. Vella hit the gas, heading toward the fairground exit.

  Mama Rosie was parked just near the exit when we came down to the road. Vella pulled up beside her.

  “We’ve gotta get out of here, Mama. The flu got everyone, and they are all wild, trying to bite, and I don’t know what. Christ, Beau tried to kill me. Look in your mirror. We’ve got to haul it,” I told her.

  I saw Mama Rosie look back to see the deranged-looking crew rushing after us. “Oh, my lord, let’s go,” she called.

  We sped off. I turned on the radio. There was only one station broadcasting, and it was playing a recording of cities under quarantine.

  “What the hell is goin’ on?” I said, my eyes tearing up. Had Beau really tried to kill me? Had Vella just smashed his head in? What the hell!

  “The Tower,” Vella replied. She reached across the tr
uck and opened the glove box, pulling out a map. “We need to get to the interstate,” she said, handing the map to me.

  I opened the map and quickly took a look. As we drove, I noticed a couple of cars had pulled over on the side of the road. It looked like people were sleeping inside. I scanned the map and found our location. “Left at the next turn,” I told her. “It’ll take us up to the ramp.”

  I set the map down and looked out. There was a car on fire on the road ahead of us. Vella slowed to pass it. In the cow pasture nearby were two figures, a woman and a child, both walking slowly.

  “You think they’re all right? You think they need help?” I asked Vella.

  Vella just stared at them.

  I rolled down my window. “Hey, y’all okay?” I called.

  They turned and looked at us. They had that strange, sick look too. Their mouths were foaming. They ran toward us.

  “Mother Mary,” I whispered.

  Vella took off.

  I looked back to see that they had run up to the side of Mama Rose’s van, but she was able to pull safely by.

  When we got to the interstate on-ramp, we found it was completely jammed.

  “What do we do now?” Vella asked.

  I could see people sitting in their cars: men, women, children. Some men were standing outside their vehicles talking. Many of them were armed. Inside the large SUVS, small TV screens played cartoon movies, keeping kids otherwise frightened out of their wits calm. In the distance, I heard gun shots. “We gotta take to the back roads,” I told Vella.

  “But to where?”

  “I don’t know, but the more backwoods the road is, the better. Go that way,” I said, pointing ahead. “Looks like there is an old country route ahead a ways.”

  I stuck out my arm and waved at Mama to follow us.

  We drove down the road. It was fall, and the trees overhead made a canopy of red, yellow, and gold. The road before us was spotted with sunlight. We passed more cars pulled to the side. After we had gone a ways, we turned onto the old country route. Half dirt and full of potholes, no one had bothered to repave it in years. The road was rough but deserted. Vella’s Bronco easily took on the rugged terrain, but I worried about Mama Rosie.

  We had been driving for a few hours, trying the radio with no luck, when we finally came to a fork in the road. We had a choice between two dirt roads. We pulled over and examined the map. The Bronco was low on gas, and the small town that was supposed to be there wasn’t. Vella’s map was as old as her Bronco. There was no sign of a town or anything else anywhere. I had wanted to get away from people, but I didn’t want to be in the middle of nowhere. Both roads looked equally country. We knew Mama Rosie’s truck wouldn’t be able to make the haul. She’d have to ride with us.

  “Let me go talk her into coming with us,” I said to Vella, opening the door.

  “I can move some stuff and fit her in the back.”

  “It ain’t her fittin’ I’m worried about. What if she won’t leave her snakes?”

  “Convince her.”

  I nodded, and Puck and I hopped out and headed toward Mama’s van.

  When I came to the side of the van, Mama wasn’t in the driver’s seat. She must have gone back to check her snakes. I opened the door and called to her. “Mama Rosie?”

  She didn’t answer.

  I looked down at Puck. He seemed nervous. He never liked Mama’s snakes, and I didn’t blame him. I stepped up into her truck. The door to the back of the van was open. I walked in to see Mama Rosie sitting at the ticket seat at the other end. I also noticed a couple of the pens had been opened.

  “Mama, you all right? You got snakes out?” I called.

  Mama Rosie didn’t move. Only a little light showed in from the skylight overhead. Mama’s head hung low.

  I took two steps into the van. One of the snakes hissed at me, lunging at its glass cage wall.

  “Mama?”

  Puck was standing on the driver’s seat dancing around nervously.

  When I came up to Mama Rosie, she was still not moving. Her arms and legs hung limply. Her head hung low.

  “Mama?” I said, and gently putting my hand on her forehead, I tilted her head back.

  Her eyes rolled forward with a flutter. They were milk white. She opened her mouth, and a gurgling sound erupted. Two black snakes came slithering from her open mouth. She rose and lunged at me.

  Puck started barking loudly.

  I ran toward the front of the van, knocking several of the cages down behind me, blocking Mama’s path. As I turned to leave, a snake darted out of in front of me. I jumped sideways and fell into the driver’s seat. Mama Rosie was grunting and pushing through the cages. Puck barked at the snake and chased it out of the van.

  I found myself staring down at the driver’s side floor, face to face with one of Mama’s tarantulas. It wandered away. Just then I remembered something. I jabbed my hand under the seat, praying to God no snakes were hidden there, and found Mama Rosie’s handgun.

  I pulled it out in time to see Mama Rosie come crashing toward me. I aimed as best I could, closed my eyes, and fired.

  I heard Mama Rosie hit the ground with a thud.

  A moment later, Vella came running up.

  “Oh my God! Are you okay?”

  I sat up to see I had shot Mama Rosie between the eyes. Snakes were crawling everywhere.

  “Get out of there,” Vella called, lending me a hand.

  We closed the door to the van and stood at the side of the road breathing hard.

  “You shot her in the head,” Vella said.

  I nodded, but I also started crying. My stomach flopped, and I turned to the weeds at the side of the road and threw up. I had shot Mama Rosie. My whole body shuddered as I thought about those snakes bursting out of her mouth. I threw up again. What the hell was happening?

  “No, I mean, she went down when you shot her in the head. Beau, he didn’t feel a thing when you hit him across the chin, but he went down when I bashed him on the head. There is something going on with the head, the brain. There’s something about this flu and the brain.”

  I nodded, understanding. I wiped my nose on my shoulder, took a deep break, and stood up. “Where the hell are we?” I asked.

  “Falling from the Tower,” Vella replied.

  I frowned. “Now, none of that. Come on. We need to get somewhere safe.”

  Vella frowned, making her dark eyes crinkle at the corners. “Where is safe now?”

  She was right. Where could you hide?

  Chapter 3

  Vella and I hopped back into the vehicle. I backed the Bronco down the road and siphoned the gas from Mama’s van. I hated to leave her there like that, but I wasn’t going back in there with those snakes. We then turned down a dirt road, Forest Road 17, and headed into the woods. We drove for hours before we saw anything. Eventually, however, we came across The Hickory Nut Camp Store. We pulled the Bronco in beside the old gas pumps. They looked like antiques more than anything else. I lifted the rusted handle: I was right, no gas. The lights were on inside so we headed in—carefully.

  “Hello?” I called, pushing the door open very slowly. I had Mama’s gun, and my pipe wrench, and Vella was still carrying the mallet.

  Static buzzed from the TV mounted on the wall behind the counter.

  The store was full of all kinds of camping gear: tents, lanterns, sleeping bags, and other odds and ends. I spotted a machete in a belt holder hung on a peg nearby. I pulled it from the rack and strapped it around my back.

  “Anyone here?” Vella called.

  Puck was braver than the two of us. He trotted into the store and started poking his nose into the shelves. It wasn’t long before he’d torn into a bag of beef jerky. He sat down on the floor beside the soda cooler and chewed his lunch.

  “Let me check the back. Grab some supplies?” I said to Vella who nodded.

  I went around the counter toward the store room. “Hello? Anybody home?” I called.

 
A single light bulb lit the back room. It flickered off and on. The setting sun shone in through two very dusty old windows. I decided the place was clear and turned to head back to the front when I spotted the toe of a shoe sticking out into the aisle. Someone was sitting on the floor at the end of the row.

  “Hello?” I called. My skin turned to goosebumps. When I didn’t get an answer, I feared the worst. I whistled. A moment later, Puck appeared. With my Puck at my side, I carefully crossed the storeroom. Whoever was sitting there didn’t move. When we got close, Puck stopped and sniffed the ground. He barked at the figure.

  I raised the gun and stepped sideways to stand in front of whoever was sitting on the floor.

  A man, maybe around fifty years old, was slumped sideways on the floor. A handgun lay beside him. I could see he had shot himself in the head. His brains, pieces of skull and hair, were splattered all over the boxes. Blood pooled on the floor and spread toward the wall.

  “Sorry, friend,” I said, lowering my gun. I picked up the dead man’s handgun, wiping off the blood on my jeans, and then headed back to the front.

  Vella was just returning from the Bronco when I came back.

  “I was loading supplies. Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Depends on who you ask. Store owner shot himself. He’s dead in the back.”

  “That seems rash.”

  “Can’t say I blame him. Better than gettin’ eaten by a person or turnin’ cannibal.” I handed the store owner’s gun to Vella. “It’s empty. He musta only had one bullet. Hang on to it. Maybe we’ll stumble across some ammo.”

  Vella nodded, stuck the gun into her bag, then she and I loaded up the Bronco with the rest of the supplies. We headed out. We tried to follow the map but we were so backwoods that it wasn’t much help. By nightfall, we were completely lost. It didn’t help much that Vella had only one headlight and no high beams. We drove through the woods and sometime around midnight, we emerged at a clearing that overlooked a valley. Something about the place, maybe the glow of the moon on the grass bending in the wind or the moon’s silver light reflected on the small field pond, made it look almost magical. It seemed as good a place as any to stop. I slowed the Bronco and put it into park.