by James Swain
Through her earphone, Hunter heard her director in the van groan sharply. To her crew she yelled, “Someone get in the van and help Jack! He’s been shot!”
The second shot blew apart the blue neon MONSTER OF THE MIDWAY sign hanging above the head of the roller-coaster operator. Cupping his head, the operator jumped down from his elevated platform and ran, his high-pitched screams starting a panicked stampede. The crowd moved in waves across the carnival grounds, sweeping out in all directions.
In the parking lot, policeman tried to avoid being trampled upon, until a quick volley of shots blew out several police car windshields. Within seconds several thousand people collectively turned on their heels and headed back in Hunter’s direction.
“Oh, shit,” Hunter said into her mike without thinking.
More shots, the first blowing out a crying child’s handful of clown-face balloons, the next hitting the tracks above.
“Someone get Hardare down!” Hunter screamed.
Hearing gunfire, Jan grabbed Crystal, and pulled her down to the ground.
“Dad!” Crystal screamed.
Above their heads Hardare dangled helplessly, the straitjacket still imprisoning him. Jan stared at the plexiglass clock that had been miraculously left standing by the crowd. Forty seconds to go. The suddenness of the shots had robbed her of the capacity to think.
“Hurry, Vince,” she yelled up to him.
Her husband had undone the leather straps, and was pulling the straitjacket down over his head, the most difficult part of its removal being over.
Her eyes fell on the plexiglass clock. Twenty seconds.
He was running out of time.
Jan believed in contingency plans, even if her husband didn’t. Throwing open the door to the Action 10 van, she climbed in, and glanced at the news director in the back, holding his bloody shoulder. She started the engine while pounding the horn with her fist. The crowd moved out of her way, and she reversed the van so it was directly beneath her husband.
She jumped out. Above her, Vince swung like a pendulum, the bullets missing him by inches. Seeing the rollercoaster arch up the last hill before its final decent, she started to pray.
“Come on Vince. You can do it. I know you can. Please don’t get killed… please.”
Swinging in giant arcs, Hardare guessed he had ten seconds left, maybe less. He tried to block out the screaming crowd, his sweat-soaked body writhing in agony. It occurred to him that this attack was somehow linked to Osbourne, only he wasn’t entirely sure how.
“HURRY DAD!” Crystal screamed. “YOU’VE GOT TO HURRY!!”
He was running out of time. Through the rope he could feel the vibration of the roller coaster as it came rumbling towards him. As the thought of falling became a vivid reality, he did what several doctors had urged him never to do again, and dislocated both his shoulders simultaneously. Biting his lip, he crossed his arms behind his neck and felt the straitjacket slip free. As it fell to the ground, Crystal cheered, and he popped his left shoulder into its socket, then his right, his mouth growing warm from the taste of his own blood.
Looking up, he saw the empty roller coaster come racing down the hill. He had a few seconds, and he thought; that’s all you’ve ever needed.
Doubling his body, he reached up to free himself as a bullet hit the block and tackle. His hand flew away, and he struggled to keep his body doubled.
“DAAAAAD!”
He had run out of time. The rollercoaster passed above him, and the rope was cut in half.
He plunged backwards into space. A horrible thought flashed through his mind. He wished there wasn’t a TV crew filming him as he fell so ungracefully to his death.
It was a bad way to end a career.
Chapter 40
The Man Who Cheated Death
It had been years since Wondero had run so hard.
Lungs burning, he propelled himself across the carnival grounds, his leaden feet pounding the soft earth. A hundred yards ahead of him, a man wearing a clown outfit stood atop a concession stand, shooting a rifle at the rollercoaster.
It was Osbourne. Wondero knew it was Osbourne because he was laughing with each shot he took, and only crazy men laughed when they tried to kill people. Judging by the number of shots he’d heard, Osbourne was taking target practice at the crowd.
A scream shook him to his very soul. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the rollercoaster pass over Hardare, and watched helplessly as the magician fell to his death.
He turned his attention to Osbourne. The expression on his clown face was nothing short of glee.
Wondero shot him.
He would probably pay for doing that without issuing a warning, or maybe he wouldn’t, he really didn’t know. But his gut told him it was the right thing to do, no different than shooting a rabid dog that was biting people.
Osbourne dropped the rifle, and clutched his leg. Blood spurted out of his right thigh in a burst of red.
Wondero shot him again.
The bullet ripped through his costume. Osbourne toppled forward and fell off the concession stand. He hit the ground hard, his head jerking painfully to the side as he landed.
Wondero hoped he was dead.
It was not to be. Osbourne was still breathing, his eyes blinking wildly.
“You’re under arrest. Put your hands where I can see them.”
“I think my neck’s broken.” Osbourne began to flop around like a dying fish. “I can’t move my arms or my legs.”
Wondero thought back to Mr. Kozlowski, who’d admitted that his basement was filled with victims. Perhaps this was the punishment that serial killers got for their crimes.
Wondero frisked him anyway. In the pockets of Osbourne’s clown pants he found a handgun and a knife. Wondero decided he was still a threat, and handcuffed Osbourne’s wrists behind his back. Osbourne screamed at him.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Osbourne said.
“Shut up,” Wondero replied.
“I’ll tell you what’s funny. I killed Hardare, and you couldn’t stop me.”
“I said, shut up.”
“I win, and you lose.”
The word hit Wondero hard. Osbourne was right. He’d had the chance to save Hardare, and he’d blown it.
A cheer went up on the other side of the carnival. The sound was filled with hope, and Wondero lifted his head and stared.
“What was that? What’s going on?” Osbourne said.
“You were wrong.”
Grabbing Osbourne by the back of his clown suit, Wondero pulled him off the ground, and pointed him in the direction of the sound. Osbourne drank in the sight of what had happened.
“NO!!!” Osbourne screamed.
Wondero brought his lips up to the serial killer’s ear.
“I win, Eugene.”
Hardare opened his eyes, thinking he was dead.
Above him, the stars twinkled and a cool wind blew across his face. His first impression of life after death was wonderful; there was no pain or feelings of remorse, in fact, it felt exactly like he was lying on a giant mattress.
His fingers pressed down. He was lying on a mattress, and he cautiously lifted his head.
The earth spun for a moment, then settled down to normal speed. Somehow, he was floating in the air, the carnival crowd below being calmed by the police.
He sat up stiffly, and tried to make sense of what had happened. Sliding to the edge of the mattress, he saw that he was sitting atop the Action 10 van, the mattress having been securely tied to its roof with bungee cords. Jan and Crystal stood below, and waved frantically to him. He snapped one of the bungee cords. “Was this your idea?” he asked.
“Yes,” his wife said.
“Didn’t want me working without a net, huh?”
His wife nodded, and burst into tears.
He jumped down and embraced his family. As the Action 10 cameraman zoomed in, he realized he was still on the air. Jayne Hunter stuck a mike in his face.<
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“Hardare, that was one hell of a show.”
“Thanks. Did they capture the man shooting at us?”
“They got him,” a policeman standing off camera said.
“We’re still on the air,” Hunter said. “Anything you care to leave us with?”
His mind raced. What did you say after seeing your life flash before your eyes? Nothing appropriate came to mind.
Hunter gave him a pleading look. She wanted the segment to end on a high note, and he flashed his best smile for the camera.
“All good things must come to an end,” Hardare said. “This is the last time I perform an escape where put my life at risk. I hope you enjoyed it.”
Jan gave him a squeeze, and he looked into her eyes.
“Thank you,” his wife said.
One Week Later
From The Los Angeles Times Classified section
For sale: Lakers/Celtics tickets, third row,
Clippers/Jazz, fifth row, Kings/Bruins, behind
penalty box. Also, Elton John/Hollywood Bowl,
Lady Gaga/Forum. Some Hardare tickets still
left (balcony only). Call Larry, 949-1981, eves.