Chapter 3
An hour into my shift, the carnival had transformed into something that made my gorilla want to roar warnings at every turn. The facade from earlier had melted away, revealing the true nature of the Carnival of Shadows.
Swinger, Bulldog, and I had agreed to call each other if there was a situation we couldn't handle on our own. Splitting up to cover more ground, I spotted them again—the five clowns from earlier. But now they weren't moving as a unit. They'd dispersed through the crowd like predators hunting alone.
The purple-haired one with the scratches caught my attention first. I watched him approach a middle-aged businessman standing with a group who looked like they'd come straight from work. He was fumbling with his wallet at a game booth, clearly having had too much to drink already.
"Having trouble there, friend?" the clown asked, his voice that same sing-song mockery of friendliness I'd heard before. The guy's friends all laughed.
The man looked up into the clown's face, jumped backwards, then joined his friends in laughter.
The clown leaned closely and gestured for them to follow. When they did, he blew something into all of their faces. My gorilla eyes saw a fine, glittering dust that caught the carnival lights. The group immediately stood up straight, their eyes glassy and unblinking.
"There we go," the clown purred. "Now we don't need an audience, do we?
" He flicked his fingers at the group and said, "Be gone.
Go play another game." Collectively, the group stepped back, everyone walking in different directions.
"Not you." The clown grabbed the man's arm.
"You stay with me." He plucked the man's watch from his wrist and his wedding ring from his finger, and the man did nothing to stop him.
"Doesn't that feel lighter? Now, why don't you come with me, and we can have some fun? "
"Sure," the man muttered. "Fun."
"That's good. I have a treat for you."
"Treats," the glossed-over man said with a goofy smile on his face.
I started toward them but was held back by a noisy group of women all wearing bachelorette party sashes announcing that it was Rachele's party.
This is just what we need, I thought as the group passed.
By the time I could step across, the businessman and the clown were gone.
My radio crackled. "Anyone copy?"
"Yeah, Bulldog. What's up?"
"Runt, you close to the funnel cake stand?"
I looked around. "A couple booths from it."
"Well, get over here."
"I'm on the other side. It will take me a few minutes to get there," Swinger informed us.
I quickly made my way through the crowd, dodging couples who moved from one vendor to another. Focused on getting to Bulldog, I noticed that the wretched, mind-numbing music seemed louder tonight.
I found Bulldog standing behind the booth, his face pale.
Looking him over, I didn't see anything suspicious. "Dude, what happened?"
"Tell me I'm not losing my fucking mind." He pointed.
I followed his finger and felt my stomach drop.
Staring at us were three identical women—at least I thought they were women.
About ten feet from us were dolls. Life-sized, creepy-as-shit dolls.
Elaborate Victorian dresses with ruffles and bows, patent leather shoes, white porcelain faces with makeup that was just a little too perfect.
Their heads tilting at the exact same angle, their steps stiff and unbending, matching each other perfectly. Dolls.
I hurriedly backed up so I stood next to Bulldog.
"Hello there," they said as one, their voices high and childlike. They swayed their heads and blinked. "Big strong men. We like big strong men."
"Ah," Bulldog managed, clearly as disturbed as I was.
The one in the middle—or maybe all three at once, I couldn't tell—suddenly switched her voice to a sultry, adult voice. "Will you play with us? We know some very... interesting games."
Then they looked at each other, and just as quickly, they were back to little girl’s voices. "We want our mommy. Do you know where our mommy is?" All three broke into tears.
"Uh," Bulldog grunted.
This time the right one's voice was breathy, sexual. "We'll do anything you want if you help us."
"Hey," Swinger rounded the corner. "I got here as soon as—what the fuck!" Swinger stopped next to me. "Dolls. They're dolls."
All three pinpointed their eyes on him when he spoke.
"Shit, I'd take the clowns," Swinger stated.
"One," they said, staring at Bulldog.
"Two," they stared at me.
"Three," they moved to Swinger. "Six makes an orgy." The trio mechanically bent their arms at the elbows and covered their mouths while giggling.
"Ah," Swinger and Bulldog uttered at the same time.
The middle one suddenly wailed, causing all three of us to jump. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Want to play. Want men to play," she cried.
Bulldog and I exchanged a look. This was beyond fucked up.
"Play and cotton candy!" the other two wailed. "We want cotton candy."
"What do we do?" I asked the guys carefully.
"I have no idea," Bulldog said.
"Run?" Swinger suggested.
The girls' tears stopped instantly, and all three faces turned toward us with identical predatory smiles.
"Playtime. Come play with us." They stepped closer, moving as one, and I caught a scent that made my gorilla on edge. Death mixed with something sweet and rotten underneath.
"We have to go," I said, grabbing the guys' arms. "Don't let them touch you."
We speedily backstepped away from the triplets, who watched us with those empty doll eyes. As we put distance between us and them, I heard their voices again—all three speaking as one.
"Mommy!"
"What the hell," Bulldog breathed once we were out of earshot. "What, just what?"
"I, I," Swinger said, running a hand through his hair. "I, uh."
"Listen, anyone runs into them on their own, call right away and don't let them touch you." I looked over my shoulder. "I'll tell you later, but don't get close to any of them."
"Yeah, not a problem," Bulldog said, peering around. "This is some crazy shit."
"We better get back to work," Swinger suggested. "I'm going to head to the other end of the midway."
"Me too. “I’ll go," Bulldog said, already walking that direction.
"Great, leave me here," I called after them, but they were already gone into the crowd.
I walked a little ways, watching the people play games, winning oddly constructed and stitched stuffed creatures.
The college women from earlier were in line to ride the Ferris wheel.
The red and blue clowns in the middle of them, the women laughed at something the blue one said.
I stood observing until the red clown caught me.
His eyebrows furrowed and he glared at me, holding up his middle finger, flipping me off.
Let them! Mortis' command blared in my head.
I lifted my chin and gave him a nod, continuing on my way. I cut across two booths that had a space big enough to pass through, then stepped through the crowd heading farther into the midway.
I rounded the corner of a bigger tent and immediately wished I hadn't. The purple-haired clown was leaning against the tent wall, his eyes closed, his pants open. Kneeling in front of him in his expensive suit was the businessman from earlier.
"Mmm, grape," the man said between slurps. He licked the tip of the clown's purple dick. "You taste just like grape soda." He took him in one back-of-the-throat ramming motion, sliding his mouth back to the tip.
He has a purple dick. Purple. A purple dick.
I shook my head, made to turn around, and accidentally hit one of the tent ropes. The clown's eyes snapped open and met mine. His filed-tooth grin widened as he looked me up and down like I was a piece of meat.
Licking his lips, "You want to be next?" he called out, his voice carrying that same sing-song quality.
"He won't care, not for a while at least." The clown tilted his head to the side, and I felt something cold and oily slide over my mind.
"Maybe you want to be our third. Huh, that would be fun. How about it? Would you like that?"
The businessman kept working, muttering about how good the clown tasted, completely oblivious to the conversation happening above him.
"No, no thanks," I managed, backing away quickly. "I think you're good on your own."
"You sure?" The clown placed his hand on the man's head, and the man froze in place. "I can share him."
I put my hands up in front of me. "Nope, I'm—no thanks."
I half-ran around the corner of the tent and ran directly into Swinger.
"Whoa, you alright?" Swinger grabbed my arms to steady me.
Closing my eyes, I blew out my breath. "Don't go around the corner."
"Why?"
"The purple clown." I wasn't sure how to explain what I'd seen. But it didn't matter—Swinger had stepped around me and was approaching the tent corner.
He leaned to the side, watched for a minute, then stood up, turned, and walked back to where I was standing.
"Now that's burned into my brain," Swinger said, smacking the side of his head. "How do you unsee something like that?"
"Shit, you figure it out, let me know." We stood there in silence for a moment.
"Did he say grape?"
"Yes," I answered him.
"Why grape?"
Meeting his eyes, "Purple clown, purple…" I raised my eyebrows.
"Fuck me."
"I'm sure he would," I teased.
"Shut up!" Swinger punched my arm. "I hate clowns." He shuddered.
"Grape?"
I nodded my head. "Grape."
We continued our patrol together, then split up again.
I watched the orange-haired clown approach a group of women near the Tilt-A-Whirl.
With exaggerated movements, he pretended to trip, stumbling directly into a large-breasted one.
But instead of apologizing, he grabbed her breast and squeezed, honking like a car horn.
"Honk honk!" he giggled maniacally. "Oops! Clumsy me!"