by Diane Hoh
“Nah,” Alfred disagreed. “It was probably the other way around. The board wants the money we’re going to bring in. They’ll keep this thing going as long as they can, no matter what happens.”
Eve didn’t like the sound of that. “You make it sound as if you expect more trouble. Please don’t even hint at that, Alfred. Things are bad enough already.”
Alfred looked up at the dismally gray sky. “Well, sorry, Eve, but I think our problem du jour is going to be nasty weather. I think the only sound we’re going to hear coming from the cash registers tonight is the plink-plink of rain hitting the keys.”
He was right. The skies opened before noon and by the time Eve left her last class, shortly after one o’clock, and went to the carnival site to check things out, the ground was a sloppy mess, the seats on every ride were thoroughly sodden, the canvas tent, shielding the food, sagging around its tent poles. The rain showed no sign of letting up. The sky was a thick, depressing slate-gray all the way to the horizon.
Eve conferred with every member of the committee by telephone, and they all agreed. There would be no carnival that day.
Eve notified the campus and local radio stations. She enlisted Andie’s and Serena’s aid in driving along the highway to post CLOSED DUE TO WEATHER signs on top of the original carnival signs. They hung another, larger one on the entrance to the site.
“What a drag!” Serena complained as they drove to Nightmare Hall to drop her off. “Now what are we going to do tonight?”
“Study for finals!” Andie answered without hesitation. “That’s why I wanted the carnival held earlier in the month. We’re doing double-duty here, getting ready for finals and handling the Founders’ Day stuff. I’m behind in two term papers and haven’t even opened a book for my chem final. As far as I’m concerned, this rain is a gift from heaven.”
“I didn’t know you wanted the carnival held earlier,” Eve said as Serena climbed out of the car. Nightmare Hall looked gloomier than ever, black sky behind it, a thick curtain of rain surrounding it. “You never said anything.”
Andie shrugged. “Everyone else was pushing for this week, especially Kevin. Alfred and Serena were, too. Kevin being cochairperson, I figured he’d get what he wanted. Anyway, I was outvoted, so why make a fuss?”
Serena waved and ran through the rain to the front porch, where she waved again before going inside.
“Whew,” Andie said as Eve drove down the gravel driveway, “how’d you like to go home to that place on such a gloomy day?”
Eve laughed. “I wouldn’t want to go home to that place even on a sunny day. Although it’s not as bad inside as I thought it would be.” And, she thought to herself, it’s not as if I feel so incredibly safe at Lester right now, not after I found that book under my pillow.
When they got back to their room, they went downstairs to the dining hall for a quick meal. Then Andie, books piled high on her bed, settled in for a long evening of studying.
“I’m going to do that, too,” Eve said, slipping into a red sucker with a matching, floppy-brimmed hat, and pulling on an old pair of sneakers. “But first, I want to check things out at the site.”
Andie lifted her head. “You’re going over to the carnival? Now? In this weather?”
Eve frowned. “You sound like my mother. Well, not my mother. Weather never stopped her from doing anything. But you sound like someone’s mother. I’m just going to check things out, make sure the food tent didn’t collapse under all that water, stuff like that. I’ll be right back.” The truth was, she had a funny feeling. She couldn’t have explained it to Andie, wasn’t even going to try. But every time she thought about the site, her spine crawled, and she had a creepy feeling that meant something. There could be something wrong over there.
There was doubt in Andie’s face. She hesitated for a second, then said, “Eve? Do you really think you should go alone? If you really have to go over there, why don’t you call Alfred, or that guy, Garth, see if one of them will go with you.”
Pretending she wasn’t worried, Eve said testily, “Now you really do sound like someone’s mother. No one is even going to be at that site, Andie. Who besides me is dumb enough to go out in this? The place will be totally deserted. I’ll be as safe as I would be in my own bed.”
Andie’s head bent over her books. “Yeah,” she muttered, “but just remember someone put something in that bed last night. I rest my case.”
Good point. “Well, you’ll be happy to know I’m taking a flashlight, Mom. See you.”
Andie didn’t answer as Eve left the room.
It’s all an act, Eve thought as she hurried down the hall, her sneakers making a whispering sound on the hardwood floor. The dorm was quiet with the hush of people studying. I really don’t want to go anywhere near the carnival. It’ll be dark, and filthy with mud, and it’s raining so hard, I won’t be able to see anything. If there really is something wrong, can’t it wait until morning? What am I trying to prove, anyway?
That you’re not afraid, her brain answered.
Then why am I examining the elevator so carefully before I step inside? Eve argued half-seriously.
The carnival site was even more depressing than she’d expected. Without the lights from the Ferris wheel and the other rides, and the moon completely hidden somewhere in the charcoal sky, only the narrow beam of Eve’s flashlight broke the darkness. She was forced to keep the light aimed downward to trace the safest path through deep puddles and treacherous mud. Even so, she slipped and slid as if she were walking across a glassy frozen pond.
She had never heard such quiet. No music, no laughter, no chatter, no balloons popping, no crack of air rifles targeting marching ducks, no shrieks and screams coming from the rides. Occasionally, a car high at the top of the Ferris wheel would creak as a sudden gust of wind caught it and sent it swinging. But there were no other sounds.
She missed the smells, too, of popcorn and hot dogs and the sugary-sweet smell of cotton candy. The food booths were draped completely with black, heavy canvas. The silent, dripping boxlike shapes loomed up out of the darkness on both sides of Eve, as if they were watching, waiting to see what she would do, why she was there.
Why am I here? she wondered as a gust of wind slapped her in the face with a sheet of rain so cold, it took her breath away. Andie was right. This is stupid. No one else is dumb enough to come out in this kind of weather. I haven’t proved a single thing to anyone except that, at least, the carnival site is still intact. Soaked and dismal, but intact. No one blew it up or set fire to it.
Maybe now that clammy feeling in her spine would disappear and she could concentrate on studying for finals.
Keeping her flashlight aimed on the muddy ground ahead of her, Eve turned and was about to head back to the dorm, when the total silence was broken by the sound of a voice.
“Ee-vie! Oh, Ee-vie, where you going? Leaving so soon? But you just got here!”
Chapter 16
AT THE SOUND OF the sickeningly familiar whisper, Eve froze. The mud in which she was standing ankle-deep might as well have been quick-drying cement. After several minutes of silence broken only by the creaking of the Ferris wheel and the slapping of rain onto canvas, she lifted her head away from the path drawn by her flashlight. Her eyes darted from side to side, but her legs remained immobile.
“Ee-vie? Nice weather, huh? So how come you’re out here? I wouldn’t have figured you for one of those too-dumb-to-come-in-out-of-the-rain people. I thought you were smarter than that. I can’t believe they put someone so stupid in charge of the Founders’ Day committee.”
Mute and miserable, with water dripping steadily from the brim of her hat, Eve remained rooted to the spot. Andie’s earlier question sprang into her mind. “Shouldn’t you take someone with you?” The answer to that question was yes. A big, fat, rotten yes.
Too late now.
What was it she was supposed to be proving out here? Oh, yes, that she wasn’t afraid.
“Where
are you?” she called, peering anxiously through the rain curtain. When no answer came, she cleared her throat and repeated the question, louder this time. “Where are you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe I’m not anywhere. Maybe I’m everywhere.”
Eve wouldn’t argue that. It certainly seemed that way to her.
Her legs finally agreed to move, and she began tentatively backing up, yanking first one foot out of the mud, then the other. If she couldn’t see who was there because of the rain, maybe they couldn’t see her too well, either. It was the only hope she had.
That hope died instantly when the voice said, “And just where do we think we’re going? Where are your manners, Eve? I haven’t dismissed you.”
Eve whirled and began to run. Tried to run. Slogging through mud couldn’t be called running, and the wind and the rain were against her. She felt like one of the street mimes she’d seen in San Francisco, pushing against an invisible wall.
As she slogged, her head swiveled from side to side under her hood. Where could she go? Was there someplace safe to hide, until the voice went away? Would it go away? Or was it, this time, determined to finish the job it had started in the Mirror Maze?
She couldn’t move quickly, but her mind was racing. Where to hide? Where to find safety? To get back to the dorm, she’d have to run out into the open, giving him a perfect, unprotected target. It was too far, and too dangerous.
The Ferris wheel? Could she hide in one of the seats? No. The red raincoat would be too visible. The Snake? That ride was so dangerous that the front of the wooden seats rose high, to chest level, providing some protection for the rider. And … maybe … if she could make it that far, climb in and slide down in one of the seats behind the wooden shield … She could hide in the seat until she was sure he’d given up and left the carnival grounds. Then she’d make a break for the dorm and safety.
If she could just get to The Snake without being seen.
She slid sideways on the muddy grass, into the shadow of the booths, moving in and out among them stealthily, like a thief in the night.
“Ee-vie! Where are you? I can’t have this, you know. You keep disappearing on me. That’s so rude.”
Good. If he wasn’t lying, trying to trick her, he couldn’t see her now. If she stuck closely to the booths, maybe the shadows would protect her until she reached The Snake.
She slipped and fell twice. The first time, her hat fell off and skidded away. Terrified that he would pounce on her while she was lying helpless in the mud, Eve struggled to her feet and ran, leaving the hat behind. The second time, she lost the flashlight. That was far more serious than losing the hat, and she wasted precious moments fumbling around in the mud with her hands. But the bulb had gone out when the flashlight landed. Trying to find it in the dark would take too long.
“Oh, Ee-vie! Where are you?” the voice singsonged from a distance.
The sound chilled Eve’s blood. But it was from a distance, which meant she still had time. Only minutes, maybe seconds, but she was grateful for that much.
She could see The Snake through the rain now. It lay coiled and silent on its tracks. Hope rose in her throat. It did seem from this distance as if someone lying curled up on one of the seats would be completely hidden behind the high wooden front. She’d be safe there. Until he gave up and left.
“Eve!” Angry now, that voice. “Where are you? You really are stupid, making me angry. My own mother made me angry, and I killed her. I killed my own mother, Evie! Anger fuels my power. You’re just making me stronger. That’s a really big mistake.”
Power, schmower, Eve thought in disgust, climbing under the rope that barred the entrance to The Snake. You’re a head case, that’s all you are. But a dangerous one, I’ll give you that.
Eve’s barrette was long gone, and her sodden hair clung to her cheeks, dripping rainwater into her eyes. She had to continually brush it aside to see.
There! That last car, at the very end. Its wooden front, decorated with a wicked-looking snake, fangs exposed, painted in bright reds and greens, looked higher than the others. If she could just make it along the wooden platform without being seen, she’d be well hidden in there.
Terrified that she might be spotted, Eve fell to her hands and knees and crawled along the platform, the cold rain pelting down upon her. The surface was slick, and she had to go slowly, for fear of sliding off the edge and landing on the ground underneath the ride.
Where were all those extra security guards the dean had promised? she wondered bitterly as she finally reached the last car. Why was she all alone out here?
“Ee-vie! I’m right behind you!”
Well, not really alone.
Carefully, struggling to stay as low as possible, Eve grabbed the handles on the last car of The Snake and pulled herself up onto its floor. She lay there, breathing erratically for several minutes before moving up to the seat, where she rolled herself into a tight little ball, knees drawn up, head lowered into her chest. It was wet and cold and uncomfortable. But, hidden behind the wooden shield, she felt a little safer than she had since she’d first heard the voice.
Silence. All around her. The wind hissed and the rain splashed down upon the seat and the platform and pinged loudly on her red slicker, but no oily, evil voice purred in her ear.
How would she know he had given up? How could she be sure? Even if she dared to sit up and look, she wouldn’t be able to see more than a few feet in front of her, because of the downpour. Better to stay quiet and hidden for as long as she could bear it.
Not too long ago, while she was looking for a birthday card for Andie, she had come across a get-well card that read, “Misery is lying in bed with a cold and an empty box of tissues.”
Wrong. Misery, she knew now, was lying scrunched-up on a hard, cold, puddled wooden seat in the middle of a rainstorm hiding from a maniac who is ranting and raving about some weird “power” and won’t rest until you’re stone-cold dead, and you don’t have a clue about why any of it is happening. That, it seemed to Eve, was true misery.
Lost in that misery, she didn’t realize at first that a new noise had joined the hissing of the wind. This one was louder, a creaking groan that began slowly and then quickly rose to a grinding, whirring noise, like when she’d tried to learn to drive a standard transmission car and had almost stripped the gears.
Not moving a muscle, Eve strained to listen more carefully.
But before she could place the sound, the car in which she had sought refuge lurched forward.
The Snake was moving!
Letting out a small, frightened cry, Eve bolted upright.
The Snake gathered speed so quickly, there was no time to jump free, even if she hadn’t been too frozen with terror to move. Although its lights never came on and its music never began playing, in the space of less than a minute, her “refuge” became a racing prison, whipping back and forth so quickly and at such impossible angles that, after only a second or two, Eve’s neck felt as if it were about to snap in two and send her head flying out into space.
There was no time to grasp the black safety belt and fasten it around her chest and shoulders. It sat, unused, flapping uselessly against the back of the seat.
Crying silently, “No, no, this can’t be happening!” Eve’s hand flew out instead to grasp the metal rail stationed across the wooden shield in front of her. She held on with all of her strength, and still her body was flung back and forth like a tennis ball as The Snake raced along its serpentine tracks. On the sharpest, most abrupt angles, Eve was lifted bodily off the seat. Had she not had the railing to cling to, she would have been flung free.
She hung on desperately. The wind, sharpened by the speed of the ride, forced her eyes closed. Her shoulders were on fire. Her chest heaved in an effort to catch her breath as the wicked ride zigzagged sharply left, then right, then back again, without warning.
Just when she knew she couldn’t hang on another second, The Snake suddenly slowed
and came to a halt.
Eve sobbed with relief.
But she was completely drained, her knees nothing but sawdust, and before she could straighten up and tumble free of the car onto the platform, the grinding sound came again and The Snake took off a second time.
“Oh, God, no!” Eve screamed into the wind and the rain, “No!” but in vain. She was already speeding around yet another hairpin curve, her head snapping like a whip being cracked.
There’d be no getting off until the death-defying cycle had been repeated.
Eve struggled to think. The ride had to be on a timer. Which meant it would stop periodically. But the person handling the controls out here in the dark and the rain had no intention of letting her off. His goal was clear: to keep her on this thing until she was too exhausted to hold onto the railing any longer. Then The Snake would whip around one of the deadlier curves and her body would be tossed like a Frisbee, up into the air and out into the cold, wet night.
There was only one way to save herself.
She had to get off this ride.
And she had to get off it before it slowed to a stop. That pause would only last a second, and he’d be watching her, making sure she didn’t pull herself together enough to jump free.
She would have to get off while The Snake was still moving. And she would have to do it when her car was on the far side of the ride, away from the controls, where he had to be stationed. If she could work up the courage to jump, and time it just right … the jump to the ground wasn’t that great a distance. Maybe no bones would be broken. Maybe … maybe she’d even be able to get up and run, before he realized the car was empty.
The Snake was going so fast! If she jumped from a car going this fast, only a miracle would save her. But she couldn’t hang on much longer.
Heads I lose, tails I don’t win, she told herself grimly as the car whipped back and forth, back and forth, making her dizzy, tugging fiercely on her shoulders as her hands continued to grip the metal bar.