Dean Koontz - (1980)

by The Funhouse(Lit)

  There wasn't anyone around to help make the time pass more quickly. He avoided Mama, of course. Daddy was, as always, preoccupied with his law practice and his railroad models. Tommy Culp, Joey's best friend from school, was away on vacation with his family.

  Even Amy was hardly ever around these days. She worked at The Dive every day but Sunday. And during the past week she had been out every night, dating some guy named Buzz. Joey didn't know what Buzz's last name was. Maybe it was Saw.

  Joey hadn't intended to go to the fairgrounds until Saturday, the last day, so that no one would figure out where he had gone until the carnival was far, far away in another state. But by the time Monday, June 30, rolled around, he was so keyed up that he couldn't keep his resolve. He told his mother he was going to the library, but he got on his bicycle and pedaled two miles to the county fairgrounds. He still wasn't going to run away from home until Saturday. But Monday was the day that the carnival set up, and he figured he ought to learn how that was done if he was ever going to be a carny himself.

  For two hours he wandered around the midway, keeping out from underfoot but getting a good look at everything, fascinated by the speed with which the Ferris wheel and the other rides took shape. A couple of carnies, big men with lots of muscles and lots of funny tattoos, kidded him, and he joked right back at them, and everyone he met seemed to be just swell.

  By the time he reached the site on which the funhouse was being erected, they were hoisting a giant clown's face to the top of the structure.

  One of the workers was a man in a Frankenstein mask, and that made Joey giggle. One of the others was an albino, he glanced at Joey, pinning him with colorless, rainwater eyes as cold as winter windows.

  Those eyes were the first things in the carnival that Joey didn't like.

  They seemed to look straight through him, and he half-remembered an old story about a woman whose eyes turned men to stone.

  He shivered, turned away from the albino, and walked toward a place in the middle of the midway, where they were putting up the Octopus, one of his favorite rides. He had taken only a few steps when someone called to him.

  "Hey, there!"

  He kept walking, even though he knew it was himself the man was calling to.

  "Hey, son! Wait a minute."

  Sighing, expecting to be thrown off the midway, Joey looked back and saw a man jumping down from the front platform of the funhouse. The stranger was tall and lean, maybe ten years older than Joey's father.

  He had coal-black hair, except at the temples, where it was pure white.

  His eyes were so blue that they reminded Joey of the gas flames on the kitchen stove at home.

  As the man approached he said, "You aren't with the carnival, are you, son?"

  "No," Joey admitted glumly. "But I'm not getting in anyone's way.

  I'm really not. Someday . . . maybe . . . I'd like to work in the carnival.

  I just want to see how things are done. If you'll let me stay and watch for a while--" "Whoa, whoa," the stranger said. He stopped in front of the boy and stooped down. "You think I'm going to throw you out?"

  "Aren't you?"

  "My heavens, no!"

  "Oh," Joey said.

  "I could tell you weren't just a gawker," the man said. "I could see you were a young man with a genuine interest in the carnival way of life."

  "You could?"

  "Oh, yes. It just shines through," the stranger said.

  "Do you think I could be . . . a carny someday?" Joey asked.

  You? Oh, sure. You've got the stuff," the stranger said. "You could be a carny or just about anything you wanted. That's why I called out to you. I could see the right stuff shining in you. I sure could.

  Even from up there on the platform." Well . . . gee," Joey said, embarrassed.

  "Here," the stranger said. "Let me give you these." He reached into a pocket and withdrew two rectangles of thin, pink cardboard.

  "What are those?" Joey asked.

  "Two free passes to the fairgrounds." "You're kidding."

  "Do I look like I'm kidding?" Why give them to me?"

  "I told you," the stranger said. "You have the right stuff. As the carnies say, you're with it and for it. Whenever I see someone who's with it and for it, someone who's a carny at heart, I always give them a couple of free passes. Come any night and bring a friend. Or maybe your brother.

  Do you have a brother?"

  No," Joey said.

  "A sister?" "Yeah."

  "What's her name?"

  "Amy." "What's your name?"

  "Joey."

  "Joey what?"

  "Joey Alan Harper."

  "My name's Conrad. I'll have to sign the back of the passes." He produced a ballpoint pen from another pocket and signed his two names with a flourish that Joey admired. Then he handed over the free passes.

  "Thanks a lot," Joey said, beaming. "This is terrific!"

  "Enjoy yourself," the stranger said, grinning. He had very white teeth. "Maybe someday you will be a carny, and you'll hand out free passes to people who are obviously with it and for it."

  "Uh . . . how old do you have to be?" Joey asked.

  "To be a carny?"

  "Yeah."

  "Any age, just about."

  "Could a kid join up if he was just ten?"

  "He could easy enough, if he was an orphan," Conrad said. "Or if his parents just didn't care about him at all. But if he had a family who gave a hoot, they'd come looking for him, and they'd take him home."

  "Wouldn't you . . . you carnival people . . . wouldn't you hide the kid?" Joey asked. "If the worst thing in the world for him was to be taken home, wouldn't you hide him when his folks came looking?"

  "Oh, couldn't do that," the man said. "Against the law. But if nobody cared about him, if nobody wanted him, the carnival would take him in.

  It always has, and it always will. What about you? I'll bet your folks care about you a lot." "Not a lot," Joey said.

  "Sure. I'll bet they care a whole bunch. What about your mother?" "No," Joey said.

  "Oh, I'll bet she cares a lot. I'll bet she's really proud of a handsome, intelligent boy like you."

  Joey blushed.

  aDo you get your good looks from your mother?" Conrad asked.

  "Well . . . yeah . . . I look more like her than like my dad." "Those dark eyes, that dark hair?"

  "Yeah," Joey said. aLike Mama's." "You know," Conrad said, "I knew someone once who looked quite a bit like you." "Who?" Joey asked.

  "A very nice lady." "I don't look like a lady!" Joey said.

  "No, no," Conrad said quickly. "Of course you don't. But you have her dark eyes and hair. And there's something in the lines of your face

  .

  . . You know, it's just possible she could have a boy your age now.

  Yes. Yes, it's quite possible. Wouldn't that be something--if you were the son of my long-lost friend?" He leaned closer to Joey. The whites of his eyes were yellowish.

  There was dandruff on his shoulders. A single breadcrumb was stuck in his mustache. His voice became even heartier than before when he said, "What is your mother's name?"

  Suddenly Joey saw something in the stranger's eyes that he liked even less than what he had seen in the albino's eyes. He stared into those two crystalline blue dots, a nd it seemed to him that the man's friendliness was an act. Like on that TV show, "The Rockford Files," the way Jim Rockford, the private detective, could be so charming and so friendly, but he was just putting it on in order to get some vital information out of a stranger without the stranger knowing that he was being pumped. All of a sudden Joey felt that this guy was putting on the charm just like Jim Rockford did.

  Joey felt as if he were being pumped for information. Except that under his phony friendliness, Jim Rockford really was a nice guy. But underneath Conrad's smile, there wasn't a nice guy at all. Deep down in his blue eyes there wasn't anything warm or friendly, there was just. . . darkness.

  "Joey?"


  "Huh?"

  "I asked you what your mother's name is."

  "Leon"," Joey lied, without really understanding why he must not tell the truth. He sensed that telling the truth right now would be the worst thing he could ever do in his whole life. Leon" was Tommy Culp's mother.

  Conrad stared hard at him.

  Joey wanted to look away but couldn't. "Leon"?" Conrad asked.

  "Yeah." "Well . . . maybe my friend changed her name. She never did like the one she was born with. Your mother might still be her. About how old would you say your mother is?"

  Twenty-nine," Joey said quickly, remembering bhat Tommy Culp's mother had recently had a twenty-ninth birthday party at which, according to Tommy, all the guests had gotten pissed.

  "Twenty-nine?" Conrad asked. "You're sure?"

  "I know exactly," Joey said, "because Mama's ,birthday is one day before my sister's, so we always get two parties close together every year.

  This last time my sister was eight, and my mother was ienty-nine."

  He was surprised that he could lie o easily and smoothly. Usually he was a lousy liar, he couldn't fool anyone. But now he was different.

  Now it was almost as if someone older and wiser were speaking through him.

  He didn't know why he was so positive that he had to lie to this man.

  Mama couldn't be the woman that Conrad was looking for. Mama wouldn't ever have been friends with a carny, she thought they were all dirty and crooked. Yet Joey lied to Conrad, and he had the feeling that someone else was guiding his tongue, someone who was looking out for him, someone like . . .

  God. Of course that was a dumb thought. To please God, you always had to tell the truth. Why would God take control of you just to make you lie?

  The carny's blue eyes softened, and the tension went out of his voice when Joey said his mother was twenty-nine. "Well," the carny said, "I guess your mother couldn't be my old friend. The woman I'm thinking of would have to be around forty-five."

  They looked at each other for a moment, the boy just standing there and the man stooping down, and finally Joey said, "Well .

  . . thanks a lot for the free passes." "Sure, sure," the man said, standing up, obviously no longer the least bit interested in the boy.

  "Enjoy them, son." He turned and walked back to the funhouse.

  Joey went across the midway to watch the workers erect the Octopus.

  Later, the encounter with the blue-eyed carny seemed almost like a dream. The two pink passes--with the name Conrad Straker neatly written on the backs of them, below the printed words, "this pass authorized by"--were the only things that kept the incident real and solid in Joey's memory. He remembered being afraid of the stranger and lying to him, but he couldn't recapture the gut feeling that had made him so certain that lies were necessary, and he felt somewhat ashamed of himself for not telling the truth.

  That night, at six-thirty, Buzz Klemmet picked up Amy at the Harper house. He was a ruggedly handsome guy with a lot of hair, muscles, a cocky attitude, and a carefully cultivated toughguy image. Mama had met him once, the second night he'd come for Amy, and she hadn't liked him one bit. In keeping with her statement that she no longer cared what happened to Amy, Mama hadn't said a word for or against Buzz, but Amy could see the loathing in her mother's eyes.

  Tonight, Mama stayed in the kitchen and didn't even bother to come out to glare at Buzz.

  Richie and Liz were already in the backseat of Buzz's vintage GTO convertible.

  The roof was down, and as soon as Buzz and Amy got in, Richie said, "Hey, put the top up so we can pass a joint around on the way to the fairgrounds without everyone seeing us." "Good old Royal City, Ohio," Liz said. "Still frozen in the Middle Ages. Would you believe there are some places in this country where you can smoke grass right out in the open without getting thrown in jail?"

  Buzz put up the top, but he said, "Hold the joint until after we've stopped for gas."

  Half a mile from the Harper house, they stopped at a Union 76 station.

  Buzz got out to check the oil, and Richie got out to pump the gas.

  As soon as Liz and Amy were alone in the car, Liz leaned forward from the backseat and said, "Buzz thinks you're the hottest thing he's ever seen.

  Oh, sure," Amy said.

  "No, he really does." "He tell you that?"

  Yeah."

  aWe haven't done anything," Amy said.

  "That's one reason he thinks you're so hot. He's such a dreamboat that he's used to girls just falling on their backs for him. But you tease him along, let him feel a little, and then stop him right on the brink.

  He's not used to that. It's different for him. He's got the idea that when you finally give in you'll be absolutely wild." "If I give in," Amy said.

  "You'll give in," Liz said confidently. "You still don't want to admit it, but you're just like me."

  Maybe.

  "You've been dating him every night for a week, and each night you let him get a little farther than the night before," Liz said. "You're coming out of your shell an inch at a time." aBuzz told you exactly how far I've let him go?" Amy asked.

  "Yep," iz said, grinning.

  "Jeer," Amy said. "He's got such class." "Oh, hell," Liz said, "he wasn't tattling on you. It's not like he told a stranger. I'm your best friend. And Buzz and I go way, way back.

  I used to screw around with him, and we're still the best of buddies.

  Listen, kid, when we leave the carnival tonight, let's go back to my house. My folks are still away. You and Buzz can use their bedroom.

  Stop teasing the guy.

  Give him a break. Give yourself a break. You want the old salami just as much as I do."

  Buzz and Richie got back in the car, and Richie fired up a joint.

  While Buzz drove to the fairgrounds, they passed around the dope, and each of them took a couple of deep drags, holding the smoke in their lungs as long as they could.

  In the parking lot at the fairgrounds, they lit another joint and sat in the car until they had done that one, too.

  By the time they reached the ticket booth, Amy was feeling warm, airy, and a bit giggly. As she drifted onto the carnival lot, into that roar of sound and whirlpool of motion, she had the peculiar feeling that tonight was going to be one of the most important nights of her life.

  Tonight she would make decisions about herself, tonight she would either accept the role in life that both Liz and Mama believed she was suited for, or she would make up her mind to be the good, responsible person that she had always wanted to be. She was standing on a thin line, and it was time to jump one way or the other, time to make up her mind about herself. She didn't know how she knew that, but she did know it. The feeling was unshakable. At first it sobered her and made her a little bit afraid, but then Liz made a very funny crack about a fat woman who was walking up the midway in front of them, and Amy laughed, and the grass had its effect, and the laugh turned into an uncontrollable giggle, and she was floating again.

  T H R E E THE

  AMY DISCOVERED THAT Liz was right about a little grass making the thrill rides even more fun than usual. They rode the Octopus, the Tilt-a-Whirl, the Dive Bomber, the Whip, the Loop-de-Loop, the Colossus, and others. The ramps seemed higher than those on thrill rides that Amy had ridden in - previous carnivals, the dips seemed deeper, the i whipping action, the spinning, soaring, diving, twisting, and turning all seemed wilder and faster than ever before. Amy held onto Buzz and screamed with delight and with a quiver of genuine terror as well. Buzz pulled her close, he used her fear and the sudden lurchings of the rides as excuses to cop some quick, cheap feels.

  Like Liz, Amy was wearing shorts, a T-shirt, but no bra. Buzz couldn't resist touching her breasts and her long, bare, nicely tanned legs.

  Each time she got off a ride, Amy was disoriented for a minute or two and had to cling to Buzz, and he liked that, and she liked it, too, because Buzz had such big, hard, muscular arms and shoulders.

  Only
forty minutes after they arrived at the fairgrounds, they slipped off the midway, between a couple of sideshows, to the back lot, where rows of carnival trucks were parked. They went around behind the trucks, into a deserted culde-sac that ended at the fairgrounds' ivy-covered fence. They stood in shadow-dappled, summerevening sunlight and passed around a third joint that Liz took out of her purse, they sucked in the sweet smoke, held it down as long as they possibly could, then let it out with urgent gasps of pleasure.

  "This one's a little different," Richie said as the hand-rolled cigarette made its second circle around their huddle.

  "This one what?" Amy asked.

  "This joint," Richie said.

  'eah," Liz said. "It's spiced up." "With what?" Buzz asked.

  "Trust me."

  "Angel dust?" Richie asked.

  "Trust me," Liz said.

  "Hey," Buzz said, "I'm not sure I like smoking something that I don't know what it is."

  "Trust me," Liz said.

  "I trust you about as far as I can throw you," Buzz said.

  "Doesn't matter," Liz said. "We've almost finished the joint anyway."

  Buzz was holding the stub. He hesitated, then said, "Oh, hell, why not live dangerously." He took one last drag on it.

  Richie started to kiss Liz on the neck, and Buzz kissed Amy, and without quite realizing how it happened, Amy found herself pinned against the side of one of the trucks, and Buzz was running his hands up and down her body, kissing her hard, pushing his tongue into her mouth, and then he tugged her T-shirt out of her shorts and got one hand under it and squeezed her bare breasts, thumbed her nipples, and she moaned softly, concerned that someone might walk around behind the trucks and see them, but unable to express her concern, responding even to Buzz's crude caresses.

  Suddenly Liz said, "Enough, you guys. Save it for later. I'm sure as hell not going to lie down right here, in broad daylight, and take it in the dirt." "The dirt is the best place," Richie said.

  "Yeah," Buzz said. "Let's do it in the dirt." "It's the natural thing," Richie said.

  "Yeah," Buzz said.

  "All the animals do it in the dirt," Richie said.

  "Yeah," Buzz said. "Let's be natural, just hang loose and be real natural." "Stifle yourselves," Liz said. "There's a lot more carnival to see.