by Matt Drabble
The carnival was allowed inside the great walls late Friday night and was to be gone before light on Sunday.
Preston considered himself a man of practical means; he had his family's legacy to uphold.
He had forty seven workers to provide for, and rocking boats held no attractions for him. Every year they played the town with smiles and respect; they took their money and got the hell out according to Casper’s schedule. Preston drained the glass, steeled himself, and stepped out into the arena.
----------
Emily and Michael positively skipped their way towards the chiming music, laughter and bright lights of the carnival - their mood in tune with the evening.
The dusk was warm, and they joined the throng of excited townsfolk bustling along the road towards the square.
Back in the UK, fairs and carnivals tended to be grubby affairs - dilapidated machinery cranked by surly workers only interested in the contents of your wallet.
The fairs rolled through towns creating mess, and drawing the worst in antisocial youths. Towns breathed collective sighs of relief when the diesel engines hauled off their fading carcasses once again.
Michael nodded and waved to those faces that he recognised. The deputy who’d given him a ride home, Kurt Stillson, was walking with a pretty blond woman; his face seemed to be in a constant state of blissful blush.
He saw Justin, the large and gregarious butcher; Morgan from the deli; even Eddie, the tram driver that ran their route, was there with his wife.
Michael had been hoping to spot Darnell, the handyman who’d told him tall tales of Casper Christian, as he was eager for more details or leads.
He’d hoped to casually run into the man and uncover more facts than gossip. It had been two weeks since he had spoken to Darnell, and he appeared to be the one town regular who was absent for the evening. Perhaps this many smiling faces was not his scene.
----------
Emily held Michael’s hand as they walked briskly; she glanced down, realizing that they partook in the public display of affection on most occasions now without thinking about it. She squeezed him gently, pleased by his happy face; their love was warm, and currently her womb was filled in affirmation.
She looked as they rounded the corner; the whole square danced and sparkled with fairy lights.
The Ferris wheel stood tall and proud over the town, carrying smiling faces in its slow rotation.
She was now around four months pregnant, and it was plain to see for anyone who cared to look. She had found that it was impractical to wear large and baggy clothes in the hot weather.
She had taken to favouring classic smock maternity tops; tonight, she wore a pink and white check one that allowed her frequently overheated frame to breathe.
She relaxed into the pleasant evening’s entertainment ahead; the long day at school had been tiring and stressful.
She had finally spoken to Sarah-Jane as soon as she had been able to get her alone.
SJ had professed her innocence as to the unauthorized release of her pregnancy news.
She had looked into her friend’s warm and innocent face and been unable to believe that she would have broken her word.
Mrs. Thirlby had hovered around her all day; every time that she turned, the stern headmistress would be in the background, looking as though she desperately wanted to talk.
Emily had begun to feel uneasy around the harsh woman; she hoped that it was only her increasingly unbalanced hormones that were colouring her emotions.
She could easily picture Mrs. Thirlby spreading her news without care, far easier than she could picture Sarah-Jane doing the same.
The headmistress was a humourless woman; she was tight and contained, but now had taken on an air of disapproval towards Emily.
Her usual reserved attitude was now verging on an almost hostile flavour. Emily did not know just what she had done to upset her boss, but she hoped that it would not sour the job which she loved.
SJ had assured her over lunch that Thirlby could “just be like that” sometimes. She wished that if the headmistress had something to say, then she would just come out and say it.
She was growing increasingly irritated by the hard stares and disapproving looks. She shook her head to free such unhappy thoughts on such a beautiful night.
They crossed the road and into the carnival. Happy nods and welcoming smiles were passed around between residents,; greetings were uttered between the better known.
“EMS!” a loud voice boomed in her ear as arms reached around and hugged her tightly.
She turned into Sarah-Jane, who, despite only seeing her a couple of hours ago, was greeting her like a long lost relative. She laughed and hugged her excitable friend back.
“Michael, this is Sarah-Jane. SJ, this is Michael,” she introduced.
Sarah-Jane looked solemnly at Michael. For a moment, Emily thought that she was going to curtsey,. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Torrance,” she said formally.
“And I’m pleased to meet you too,” Michael said, offering his hand which SJ shook shyly. “This is some carnival,” he enthused.
“Oh, this is nothing! Just wait until you see the Woodland Festival; it’ll be unreal this year - better than ever,” Sarah-Jane beamed.
“Are you here alone?” Emily asked, looking around.
“No, I’m here with some friends,” SJ answered with disappointment. She leant in forward and whispered, “They’re all pretty lame to be honest.”
“Why don’t you join us then?” Michael asked.
Emily thought that SJ was having a stroke for a moment; her face turned the deepest darkest blush, and she stared at the floor unable to look him in the eye.
“I couldn’t,” she mumbled.
“Of course you could,” he answered honestly.
“Really?” SJ looked up at Emily with desperation.
“Sure,” Emily promised, stifling a giggle at the earnest face of her friend.
Emily watched as Sarah-Jane bounded over to her party of assorted friends. “That was very sweet of you,” she said to Michael.
“Hey, I’m a sweet guy,” he announced jokingly. “She seems nice, and I should get to know your friends.”
Over the next two hours, two things happened; the three of them partook of every inch of the carnival, and Emily watched SJ slowly crawl out of her shell.
She loved her husband all the more for his attention towards her shy friend.
Normally he would only offer the bare minimum when it came to engaging in social offerings, but he seemed determined to draw the shy girl out into the world.
Emily had watched SJ in private many times and in public; her boundless energy and enthusiasm seemed destined to be hidden behind closed doors.
They would often walk to the square for ice-cream or coffee after work. Sarah-Jane’s mood would slowly dampen as they approached the busy public area.
She would be laughing and joking one minute, and then retreat violently back into her shell as soon as anyone else spoke to her.
Emily had never met such a crushing case of dichotomy. SJ could be explosively extroverted in private when it was just the two of them, and painfully introverted as soon as anyone else spoke to her.
She would often have to order for her friend as SJ became an aching twist of shyness before even the counter staff at the deli. She desperately wanted the rest of the town to see the charming, happy bundle of energy that she saw.
Sarah-Jane was a little heavy, but she was nowhere near what she imagined herself to be.
She was pretty and fun, and would be a catch for any lucky man in town. Michael had spent the evening prying looks and words from her with painstaking care and attention.
She did not know if Michael was aware of what he was doing, but he was doing it just the same.
They played the games and Michael won a large pink bear by shooting a water pistol into a clown's mouth that he gave to Sarah-Jane.
Emily thought that her young friend
was going to faint as she took the stuffed toy.
They rode the Ferris wheel and the carousel; Michael took SJ on the bumper cars and drove with a winner’s attitude that drew several disapproving stares from their fellow drivers.
They ate cotton candy, doughnuts, hotdogs and burgers until Emily thought she’d burst and all the while they laughed.
By the end of their time, SJ was unrecognizable. Her friend had gone from being unable to look Michael in the eye, to teasing him about his inability to land a ping pong ball in a small fish bowl,
“It doesn’t bloody fit,” he grumbled.
“Use an arc,” SJ offered unhelpfully.
“I’ll bloody arc you,” he mumbled grumpily.
They were now sitting on the blanket that Michael had unfurled from his backpack; Emily was often irritated by his foresight, even when it benefitted her the most.
It was often annoying to see your own limitations illuminated by another.
The three of them squeezed onto the tartan rug, and Emily smiled at SJ’s gasp as Michael inadvertently brushed her leg. The fireworks were scheduled for ten thirty and her watch read ten twenty seven. If she’d learnt anything from their time here, it was that Eden ran to an unfailing timetable.
“Emily?”
She looked up to see Dr Samuel Creed’s smiling face; his bushy beard was full of powdered sugar from an army of doughnuts that he’d obviously consumed ineffectively.
“Samuel,” she greeted him warmly, attempting to stand.
“Sit, sit,” he ushered her.
“You too,” she offered the large doctor. “This is my husband, Michael, and my good friend, Sarah-Jane,” she introduced.
Michael shook the bulky doctor’s hand, “Pleased to meet you, doc. I understand that my wife is in your hands.” He held Samuel’s hand for a second longer and held his gaze firmly.
“It’s a position that I take very seriously, Michael,” came Dr Creed’s sober response.
Emily watched as her husband relaxed, male sensibilities satisfied. She knew that Michael worried over the baby despite his protestations to the contrary.
She had been eager for Michael to accompany her to the next appointment and was relieved to have avoided the manoeuvring involved in getting him there.
“What brings you here, Samuel?” she asked.
“I love the carnival, especially the food.” He patted his stomach.
“So do I,” came a quiet voice, as Sarah-Jane utilized her newly found confidence to speak to a stranger.
Emily glanced quickly at Michael and they shared a grin. “Help me stretch my legs for a minute, Michael,” she encouraged him. They wandered around the square leaving SJ and the doctor to talk, ignoring Sarah-Jane’s frantic terrified glance as they left, figuring that sometimes, you really had to be cruel to be kind.
----------
Michael walked his wife around, not quite understanding why she suddenly wanted to leave their comfy spot, but thinking that she often had motivations that were blind to him, so he often just followed.
His mind was on hold for the evening; his talk with Darnell had raised many questions and piqued his writer’s curiosity, and the idea of Casper having a blackened ancestral legacy was pretty juicy.
His book was lacking a supernatural element - the idea of the haunted woodland that held sway over the town could be just the thing to spark his morbid intellect.
It could be all the more interesting if some of the facts were actually true. The Christians’ dark legacy, wrapped in visions of demonic sacrifice, would more than suffice to tantalize his audience.
There were two wrinkles in this idea, however; the first was Eden. The town had given him and his wife everything.
They had been welcomed like family, and could he really trample over their lives? The second problem was the actual woods themselves.
He’d suffered a blackout there; he’d cycled into the forest and emerged having lost a couple of hours.
The more he probed, the more he’d likely uncover, and what if he didn’t like what he found?
Darnell had warned him to leave it alone, to just be happy here, but could he? Could he really just turn his instincts off like that? Could he be happy with his wife and child with such a mystery hanging over him? It was a crusty scab that he should ignore, but he was a picker.
----------
Richie Duchamp looked around furtively; the street was deserted as the entire town seemed to be streaming into the carnival to watch the upcoming fireworks.
He’d hung back deliberately as the stores emptied and closed, ignoring Gino’s constant calls for him to take over on the bumper cars, ending the debate with one hard, icy stare.
Richie was nineteen, and he was as hard as nails, and twice as mean.
He’d hooked up with the carnival for the start of the season and had quickly discovered enough side enterprises to make it worth his while.
The travelling nature of the business meant that he was never around for the morning enquiries when the local sheriff came around calling for suspects.
He had already stolen enough money for the season to be profitable - whether it was snatching handbags, muggings, short-changing, or rolling drunks, there was always money to be made.
Preston D’Amour had taken all of the newbies aside before they’d gotten to Eden; he’d made it abundantly clear that nothing untoward went on within these walls.
The other carnies had toed the line, afraid of losing their additional income by getting not only fired from the carnival, but finding themselves dumped way out in the middle of nowhere, in one state of health or another. Richie, however, was not so easily dissuaded. He’d certainly made a valiant attempt to keep his fingers out of the cookie jar, but the store owner had made it far too tempting.
He had watched as the Starbucks did a roaring trade; the large fronted display window allowed him access to watch the tills being stuffed with lush green notes.
The final straw had been when the last member of staff had left the building, turning off the lights, but not locking the doors in her haste.
Richie had watched in disbelief as the unlocked door to a deserted store with fat stuffed tills teased him from across the street. He would be a fool to risk it, but he would be a bigger fool to ignore it.
With a last look around he crossed the road, walking casually, hands in pockets, and head down.
He leant with his back against the door and reached behind to pull the handle down.
The door swung open easily, and no alarms shattered the silence. He eased in quickly and shut the door behind him.
He ducked down low beneath the sightline of the front window so as to remain invisible from the street.
He efficiently emptied the three tills, grabbing fistfuls of abundant green notes and stuffing them deep into his pockets, leaving the coins despite the value.
He turned to leave when he spotted the rear office door; he stood and considered. He had a few thousand dollars in his pockets already; it was the easiest score that he had ever made and yet … the back office. What if there was a safe? If the front door had been left open so invitingly, what about a safe?
Eventually his greed won out and he moved quickly beyond the large oak door marked private and stepped inside.
The office was small, and he was about to search for more delicacies when the light in the doorway was blocked.
A large man with broad shoulders filled the gap. Richie panicked; his stomach rolled and dropped. Preston, he thought. Preston had the reputation for extracting his own form of justice when his rules weren’t met.
The large man raised a gun aimed at his chest, but a strange sense of relief flooded through him when he spotted the patchy light catch the gleam of the badge on the monster's chest.
“Hey, officer,” he started, when he suddenly saw that the weapon held aloft was longer than it should have been - the elongated barrel extension didn’t belong on a 38 special.
The silenced gun sp
at venom and three fast blows collapsed Richie to the floor. He sank onto his knees, staring down disbelievingly at the small red holes that had formed on his shirt.
His chest hitched and wheezed as he struggled for breath and a distant gurgle bubbled in his throat as the world turned black.
----------
The fireworks were spectacular. The ooohs and aaahs radiated from mesmerized faces across the square and the black, clear night was illuminated in a million different rays and colours.
Emily sat with Michael as his childlike expression glowed with the display. She sat between his legs on the blanket, his arms wrapped around her, and occasionally she chanced a glance over to Sarah-Jane.
SJ and the doctor sat beside them, huddled pleasantly without excessive intimacy.
Sarah-Jane’s beetroot face was fading as the evening passed. Dr Creed had an agreeable manner that seemed to set everyone at ease including, apparently, the world’s shyest elementary school teacher.
A sneaky gentle dig in the ribs from her husband caught her staring - his grin and a slight shake of the head spoke of his rebuke.
She shrugged and smiled. If being a romantic was a crime then she was guilty. Despite their age gap, she could see potential between her two new friends.
After the light show, they made their respective ways home.
Samuel offered to walk Sarah-Jane home, despite there being no need, given Eden’s non-existent crime rate.
Emily was flushed to see that she agreed in a warm manner that bordered on the charmingly bashful.
As the doc and the teacher said their goodnights, Emily and Michael headed for home. The night was warm and the sky was clear. Their baby was healthy -and so were they -, their finances were stronger than ever and life was good.
----------
The carnival broke into its many pieces. Steel skeletons were stripped bare of their decorative collage, and ugly machinery innards were exposed.
The breaking operation was effective and efficient, a procedure that ran on autopilot during the silent night hours.
Workers went about their business with precision borne of experience; most did not need the light to unbolt and unplug, and the large flatbed trucks were soon laden with sections of the whole.