Blue Sludge Blues & Other Abominations

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Blue Sludge Blues & Other Abominations Page 11

by Shannon Lawrence


  She pulled out her phone, brushing her finger across the screen, looking for the message from Bret, her blind date for tonight. At the ripe old age of twenty-four, Samantha didn’t consider herself an old maid, but her friend Candace sure did, and had pushed until Samantha accepted her fix-up. If it would get Candace off her back, she’d happily go on a date.

  She found the text, accompanied by a photo of a man with dark hair and light eyes, wearing a light blue button-up shirt. Her date. Meet you at the Tilt-A-Whirl? Looking forward to it!

  Samantha sucked in a deep breath before continuing through the carnival. Barkers yelled at her from both sides, and she did her best to push through the throng of people without meeting anyone’s eyes. The carnival wouldn't have been her first choice for a date, but she had to give him credit for originality. She'd figured the noise and activity would keep things from being too awkward, so she'd agreed to meet him here, despite feeling silly about it.

  “Hey there, pretty lady, why don’t you come over and try a game? I’ll give you an extra throw!” The man yelling this stood behind a low-slung counter under a small tent, tiny goldfish bowls stacked behind him.

  “I don’t think so,” Samantha mumbled. She continued to push past the games.

  Finally past Sucker Row, the voices of the barkers faded. The rumble and screech of the rides grew, accompanied by screams of joy. The scent of cinnamon roasted almonds teased her senses. They always smelled better than they tasted.

  She was so busy inhaling the spicy aroma of cinnamon that she almost walked right past the Tilt-A-Whirl. A man stepped in front of her, hazel eyes squinting. “Samantha?” The breeze stirred though his dark hair, and Samantha took in the beginnings of a receding hairline. The clean scent of his aftershave drifted across the breeze.

  “Bret?”

  A ghost of a smile twitched his lips and he straightened himself up, tugging at his shirt as he did so. He looked to be in good shape, with broad shoulders and no stomach bulge. Good, so far.

  "You look just like your picture," he said.

  Samantha had sent him a candid of her hiking in the mountains. Her blond hair was loose, blowing in the wind. The sun had made her blue eyes stand out, and she'd figured it was a good one to send.

  "Hopefully my hair's a little neater today."

  He laughed and nodded.

  They stood in silence for a moment, eyes darting anywhere but at each other. Samantha untied the black hooded sweatshirt from her slim waist and slipped it on, leaving it unzipped. It was getting a little chilly and the straps of her tank top weren’t cutting it for warmth.

  She cleared her throat. “Ready to go on a few rides?” Her attempt at sounding chipper fell flat, and dread curled into a ball in her stomach. Sure, this is going to be a lot of fun. Thanks a lot, Candace.

  “What do you want to go on first?”

  “Well, we’re here, so we might as well start on the Tilt-A-Hurl. What do you say?”

  “Okay.” Another ghost of a smile.

  He walked up and handed tickets to the greasy haired man guarding the gate, his height stick wielded as if it were Excalibur. The man took the tickets, stuffed them into his pocket, and motioned them onto the platform. Holding her elbow, Bret helped Samantha up next to him. She slid into the thin, domed seat and waited for Bret to scooch in before pulling the bar down.

  Bret broke the silence. "Candace tells me you're studying to be an archaeologist?"

  "Yes. My major will actually be Anthropology. It's fascinating. Right now I'm in a class—"

  The car jerked. Samantha gripped the bar, and the ride started with a metallic creak. The car accelerated, and Samantha tried to use the bar to keep from slipping into Bret, body tensed, teeth clamped. A sudden bump sent her into his side, and she realized it wasn’t so bad. His body heat warmed her side, and he felt solid against her. She relaxed into him and let the ride take her where it might.

  A groan escaped her lips as they continued to go around in frenetic circles long past when she felt the ride should have been over. Perhaps it was a good thing she didn’t like almonds after all; they would have come up if she’d eaten them.

  When the ride finally came to a stop, they moved away from each other, rigid and uncomfortable again. With a whoosh of air and a click, the bar lifted slowly. They both clasped it and moved it the rest of the way up, and he offered her a hand out. Grateful that he was loosening up, she took it with a smile, and stood, half staggering off the platform. They both laughed as she dragged him over onto a bench to rest until her stomach settled.

  “You want something to eat?” he asked her.

  “Oh God, don’t talk about food yet! It’s been awhile since I’ve been to a carnival. I never used to get motion sickness. Ugh!”

  He laughed again. It was a nice laugh, warm and deep, more of a chuckle. His relaxing helped her to do the same. “Why don’t we hit the haunted house? That shouldn’t be too hard on your stomach.”

  “Sure. I reserve the right to jump at random intervals."

  “You’re not afraid of the cheesy horror house, are you? Dusty muppets and puffs of air?”

  “See, I wouldn’t say it was that. It’s just that my mind starts working overtime when I’m in one of those places. I start to think that if some guy went totally psycho, that would be the perfect way for him to get a big body count. It’s dark, you’re expecting things to jump out at you and scream and try to grab you. It would take you a little longer to respond and defend yourself if something kept coming. Before you knew it, you’d be staring down at your entrails in their hands.”

  “Man, I won’t ask you any more questions unless I want to hear the answers. Now I’m freaked out.” He laughed and offered his arm.

  Samantha wrapped both arms around it and let him lead her to the ride. She could feel his bicep through the material, solid. She couldn’t help running her hand along his arm just a little.

  The usual cheesy sight greeted them at the haunted house ride. Painted onto the side, a werewolf howled at a full moon from a cliff overhang. A mangled, grey hand reached up from a grass-covered grave, holding a lily. A vampire reached long claws toward a screaming girl as blood dripped from his fangs.

  Samantha laughed and pointed. "You think the vampire bit his tongue? There's no blood on the damsel in distress."

  Despite the ridiculous decorations, the sight of the darkness just beyond the door as each car moved through still made Samantha tense up. It sure didn’t help that they seemed to be the only ones around. The ride sat in a back corner of the carnival space, no rides nearby. There were trailers here, possibly office space or where the carnies lived. Tall walls hid the rides backing up to it. Even the sound of the other rides was dampened, creating an eerie sense of isolation.

  Bret pulled her up the stairs to the moving platform. No one appeared to be working, but the cars continued their infinite journey from right to left. He slid into the seat of the moving car and patted the spot next to him.

  She followed, thighs sticking to the cracked leather of the seat as she moved across it, her skirt sliding up. The door before her flapped open, the darkness beyond managing to be blacker than the door itself. A long, horrified scream sounded from inside the building, only to cut out abruptly.

  “Is it too late to change my mind?” she asked, as she pressed against him, leaving a gap between her and the side of the car.

  Bret wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. Samantha leaned her head against his shoulder. His warmth enveloped her, and she sank against him.

  A plastic zombie lit up behind a glass wall, and a buzzer sounded. Samantha jumped, immediately embarrassed, considering how lame the setup was. They both laughed as they rounded a corner and were attacked by dangling plastic bats. The elastic strings holding them up showed clearly in the red light illuminating everything around them.

  Something rattled off to their left, and up came a dusty skeleton, sheriff's badge on its chest, cowboy hat perched on its head
. A fake rattlesnake coiled at its feet, unmoving.

  "Now that's a sight you'll get used to as an archaeologist," Bret said.

  "If only they all come so intact!"

  The lights went out, plunging them into darkness. A fine mist sprayed across their faces. Samantha ducked her head down and wiped the moisture off with the sleeve of her hoodie. She laughed, and he joined her. Moonlight puddled a few feet away.

  Their laughter died away when the lights stayed off and the car came to a sharp stop. Complete silence greeted them. She could hear his heart beating, the whisper of his breaths. The pace of her own breathing increased.

  “This is a first,” Samantha whispered. Somehow it seemed appropriate to whisper in the darkness, lest something should hear. She suppressed a frightened giggle and closed her eyes.

  Bret took a deep breath, and she heard the distinctive smack of his mouth opening like he was about to speak. She put a shaking hand to his lips to shush him. Somewhere off to her left, she had heard what sounded like someone breathing.

  The breaths got louder. Bert tensed against her; her fingers dug into his arm. Whatever it was made a mewling noise, followed by gurgling.

  A soft whimper escaped Samantha’s throat. The sounds stopped. She opened her eyes and peered out from between Bret’s arms. A velvety wall of nothing greeted her eyes, the darkness so thick it appeared to have substance, to swirl around her.

  She took a sharp breath. Bret jumped.

  The car started with a jerk.

  Samantha yelped in surprise. The lights didn’t turn back on, but at least the car was moving again. From her left came the irregular sound of lumbering footsteps. Something grabbed her hair, pulling a handful out of her scalp.

  “Shit,” she said, through gritted teeth.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Something just pulled out some of my hair.” She still felt it necessary to whisper.

  Dim yellow headlights turned on in front of the car. Dark pushed at the edges of the light, threatening to extinguish it completely. Up ahead, two small red lights shone. A rumbling growl rippled across her skin, penetrating her chest and stomach before completing its journey to her ears. The car jolted to the left, in the direction of the eyes, and the red lights blinked out. What appeared to be a large, grey dog disappeared into the shadows. Something howled.

  Cold air brushed across her cheek and ear. She shoved herself toward Bret, unable to get farther from whatever it was.

  A sharp hiss sounded behind her.

  Bret yelped, jerking his arm away. “Something just scratched me!”

  “It’s not me. Both of my hands are on you. Did you hear the hiss?”

  “Yes. I'm sure it's what you said earlier, but this doesn’t feel right.”

  At least she wasn’t going crazy. But how were these things keeping up with the car?

  A slice of moonlight came from above them and the lights on the car went out. Hands grabbed Samantha from behind and yanked. She screamed and tried to pull out of their grip. The car shot into the moonlight, causing the things behind her to hiss and withdraw. A baleful howl sounded behind them.

  Bret's hand found her knee, squeezed. “Shit."

  “Yeah.”

  The moonlight couldn't penetrate the darkness ahead. Samantha tensed up even more, if that was possible. Just when she was considering getting out of the car and standing in the moonlight until help came, the blackness ahead of them opened, and a bright white light shone through. A door!

  “Thank God!” she said. “We made it.”

  The cart came to a stop in a small room, door closing behind them. Something hit it, pounded on it. They both jumped out as if they’d received a bite in the ass. The cart jerked, moving along the track to a space in the wall only big enough for it to pass under.

  Samantha touched her throat. "It's a good thing the cart stopped long enough for us to get out."

  "You aren't attached to your head, are you?" Bret asked. His voice was flat, lacking the humor the question indicated.

  "Where do we go from here?"

  A white door to their left swung open. Samantha looked at Bret, who met her eyes then shrugged. "I don't see any other exits."

  They slipped inside. The sounds of the carnival floated around them. Reality again. Samantha started to relax.

  “I think we’re almost out of here, for sure,” he said, squeezing her arm gently. “That was scarier than I expected it to be, especially with the cheesy beginning.”

  “Maybe the cheap scares were there to distract us, so we'd be more scared by the rest of it." Samantha held out her hand. "Let me see your arm.” She grasped his arm and pulled it toward her.

  His sleeve had been shredded. He pulled it back to reveal angry, red slashes in his forearm, blood seeping from them.

  “We need to go to the first aid station once we’re out of here,” said Samantha. “I’d like to talk to a manager, as well. This whole thing was taken way too far.”

  “Maybe it will all seem different once we get outside. We’ll let them know their actors got overzealous.” He studied the cuts, wincing when he touched them.

  “You seem pretty calm, considering what just happened."

  They moved through a narrow passageway only to find themselves in a well-lit maze of mirrors.

  “I just want out of here," Samantha said. "No more games.”

  “Maybe they put this here to wind people down after the ride," he said. "Let’s go.”

  They wound their way through the maze, both calming enough to get playful when they found the mirrors.

  “Short and fat really works for you,” she said to Bret.

  “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

  They moved on to the wavy mirror. After that was a mirror that made them look like they were blurred.

  “I wonder how they do that.” Bret reached out and touched the mirror.

  “I don’t know, but it’s creepy.”

  Samantha continued through the maze. She could hear the sound of voices and laughter; the smell of food assailed her nostrils. Her stomach growled.

  Something to the right caught her eye. She turned toward it, thinking she’d seen someone waving at her, but all she saw was her reflection. Stepping up to it, she studied the flushed face staring back at her, hair a mess, mascara pooled below her eyes. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to smooth it down. With a middle finger, she smudged the mascara under her eyes until it came off. There, much better. What a way for a guy to see her on a first date.

  Samantha’s back was sore where the hands had grabbed. Her scalp didn’t feel too hot, either. She reached behind her to rub her back.

  Her reflection didn't move.

  Okay, she was wrong. She was going crazy.

  Her reflection smiled at her. She gasped, stepped back, but arms shot out of the mirror, grabbed her, and pulled her against the silvery surface.

  She hit hard, a grunt of pain escaping. Nails dug into her shoulders and lower back. She tried to scream, but could only squeak; her lungs were being crushed.

  She prayed for Bret to come around the corner. When had she lost him?

  The hard smoothness of the mirror softened against Samantha’s cheek. Cold bit into her eyes. She shut them, straining backward as hard as possible. It didn’t help. She was being pulled into the mirror. A liquid chill closed around her, and she began to sink. Her breathing came in short gasps. It felt like she was drowning. Help me.

  Dizziness overcame her. Sensations became confusing.

  No air entered her lungs.

  Just when she was positive she would black out from lack of oxygen, the hands released her. Her eyes were forced open, and she once again gazed at her reflection.

  It was all just a mind trick. Some sort of illusion.

  She tried to back away, only to find that she couldn’t move. Not even her pinky would respond. It was as if she were frozen. Her reflection raised an arm and waved, and her arm tingled then responded against her
will. The reflection did a little dance; Samantha did the same, every moving part tingling. She couldn’t stop herself.

  She found herself laughing soundlessly with the other her, head thrown back. Whatever had happened, it seemed as if Samantha, herself, had become the reflection. So what was it that faced her?

  As the horror dawned on her that she was quite possibly trapped within the mirror, Bret walked up behind the other her. He ran his hands over her body.

  Getting a little familiar, isn’t he?

  “No!”

  The terrified shriek had come from behind her. It sounded like Bret. The other her and the touchy feely Bret laughed together, gazing into the mirror. Her hands moved with the other her’s as if they were running along his body, as well. Only, her own arms embraced air.

  The other thems moved away from the mirror, waving as they went. She backed up and turned with them, arm moving in a grudging return wave that she tried with all her might not to copy. She felt like a puppet.

  It only took two steps and they were out of sight, taking the light with them. A cold, dark void enveloped her.

  There was no holding back the screams that ruptured forth from her lips. Panic overtook her, causing her heart to pound, her breaths to erupt out of her between screams.

  “Samantha?”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice and stopped screaming. “Bret?”

  “Call out to me so I can find you.”

  “Where are we? What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His voice was right next to her and she reached her arms out, half afraid she’d grab something else in the dark. His torn windbreaker rubbed against her fingers, and she ran forward into his arms. He wrapped himself around her, holding her tightly.

  Samantha pulled herself back and looked up to where she expected his face to be. It was still impossible to see anything in the dark, but she was beginning to adjust to having no sight.

 

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