Chapter 3 #2
The woman should have been outraged, but she just giggled along with him, her eyes glazed over. Whatever influence these clowns had, it wasn't just the dust. She wrapped her arm through his, and together they entered the ride.
Near the funhouse, I heard moans and cries that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with what people were doing in the dark spaces inside.
The carny running the pop-the-balloon-with-darts game was covered, including his head, with scale tattoos and didn't have any ears.
A man popped three balloons, and the carny scurried up a pole to grab the prize.
As he handed it to him, his tongue, which was split in two, thrust out at least eight inches.
Two girls standing next to him squealed at the sight, then asked to see it again.
I continued on my way.
As the night went on, things just kept happening.
When I passed near the ring toss game, the green-haired clown—the one with the puzzle-piece face—was chatting up a couple.
The pieces of his face were literally rearranging themselves as he spoke to them, creating different expressions. I stopped and watched.
"Are you afraid to try an adventure?" His face shifted into a questioning gesture. "Something your boring lives have been missing?" The pieces moved again, creating a lascivious grin. "I can show you games that will change everything."
The couple nodded eagerly, their eyes already showing the telltale glassy stare. He took each of their hands and led them toward a darkened area between tents. I heard the woman say, "We need an adventure."
When Swinger, Bulldog, and I regrouped near the main entrance as the scream sounded announcing the carnival was closed, we all looked like we'd seen war.
"One thing's for sure, this place is fucked," Swinger said, lighting up a cigarette with shaking hands. "Like, seriously fucked."
We eyed several of the carnies walking arm-in-arm with various people. The lizard-looking guy had a woman on each arm—one from the college ladies, the other one of the bachelorette partygoers—both had the glossed-over look.
"Remember, this is your fantasy," he said. Both ladies nodded their heads in agreement.
"We better give it one more walk-through," I said. "Make sure everyone's out."
"Do we have to?" Swinger asked.
"We better," Bulldog huffed.
One more time around the midway, and everyone was either heading out the main gate or to the personal tents. We all stopped in our tracks when we saw the triplets hovering around a guy, moving him toward the performers' area. My hair stood on end listening to them giggle.
"Poor bastard," Bulldog uttered. "Better him than me."
"Hear, hear," I agreed.
"Not me. Not in a million years," Swinger stated, turning to head to where our bikes were parked.
"No, your tastes are far more purple than that," I teased him.
"Wait, what?" Bulldog asked.
"You ass, Runt," Swinger's fist connected with my chest. "Nothing, it's nothing."
"It's not," Bulldog said. "Tell me."
I jogged to my bike, leaving Swinger to explain.
The ride back to the clubhouse was quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts about what we'd witnessed.
By the time we pulled into the compound, the other teams were already gathered in the main room, cracking open beers and talking about their first night.
"There they are!" Tank called out as we walked in. "Alright, let's hear it. Everyone gives a report."
I grabbed beers from the cooler, handing one to Bulldog and Swinger. We looked at each other and settled in at one of the tables. Around the room, the other guys were sharing their experiences, and it quickly became clear that not everyone had seen the same level of... activity.
"Boring as shit," Crusher complained from his spot near the bar. "I stood at that gate for eight hours checking IDs. The most exciting thing that happened was some college chick flashed her tits trying to get a discount. But I'll tell you, that lady working the booth is some sort of odd."
Leaper nodded in agreement. "Same here. Nothing exciting. It was all pretty standard stuff."
Snake, who'd been on parking lot patrol, shrugged. "A couple guys tried to break into cars around midnight, but we ran them off. Nothing we couldn't handle."
Heavy, Torch, and Wrench from big tent security looked equally unimpressed. "I walked around that tent all night," Heavy said. "Nobody tried to get in. We could hear that damn music and shit from inside during the shows. The performers were odd, but we figure they all are."
Tank and Diesel, who'd been watching the performer area, exchanged glances. "We had a lot of coming and going from our area. I hear you—some of them don't look quite right."
"And those sounds," Diesel added, taking a long pull from his beer. "At the end, we heard some strange noises coming from tents and trailers. Weird shit."
All eyes turned to us—the midway patrol. Swinger lit another cigarette, his hands still shaking slightly.
"Boys," Fang said, leaning forward in his chair, "you three look like you've seen some shit. Spill it."
I glanced at Swinger and Bulldog, then decided to start with something that would get their attention. "You guys are never going to believe what we dealt with tonight."
"Try us," Tank said, leaning back in his chair.
Swinger motioned for me to go ahead.
"Let's see—we had various vendors with unique abilities like a forked tongue. The funhouse sounded like a BDSM dungeon. We had living dolls wanting an orgy, and clowns who were drugging people so they could have fun with them."
And for the second time this week, I'd caused the Silverback Club to go silent.
"Grape. Don't forget the grape," Swinger added.
"What's with the grapes?" Tank eventually asked.
I explained about the clowns.
"Those clowns are the same creepy fuckers with the colored hair we saw when we first got there?" Heavy asked.
"Yes. They prey on people—every customer that walks through that place," Swinger said, lighting up another cigarette. "One minute you're fine, then one of those hell monsters blows in your face, and next thing you know you're glazed over, agreeing to anything."
"They're not lying," Bulldog added. "I watched three of them drug a bachelorette party, then the girls nodded and got on the tunnel of love with them. The girls were handing over their jewelry."
"No shit?" Reaper leaned forward, grinning. "Must have been a drug. Wonder what kind?"
"One that makes you compliant as fuck," Bulldog said.
"I saw another lady—she was walking around like a zombie, doing whatever that orange-haired fucker told her to do.
And I mean whatever. Shit, he had her hand down his pants while feeding him mini donuts with the other, standing right in the middle of the midway.
People walking by cheering them on. It was crazy. "
The room perked up.
"You're making that shit up," Crusher said.
"No, they're not. There's more," I said. "There are these three women—the dolls—moving in perfect sync like they were connected somehow."
"Dressed as dolls?" Leaper asked. "When I came out of the can, I caught a glimpse of three women dressed as dolls."
"That's them," Bulldog nodded.
"They were terrifying," Leaper told the room.
"You said they were connected," Tank's interest clearly piqued. "How?"
"Like they shared one brain," Bulldog explained. "Same movements, finishing each other's sentences. But here's the kicker—they were switching between talking like little kids and propositioning grown men."
"Yeah, screaming for their mommy one second and talking about an orgy the next. If you run into them, don't let them near you. This place is beyond fucked up."
"No way," Diesel said, sitting up straighter.
Swinger said with a confused face, "All the customers think they're having the time of their lives."
"Every single carnival worker is in on it," Swinger continued. "The game operators, the food vendors, even the ticket sellers. They're all working together to drug, rob, and fuck every person who walks through those gates."
"And you're telling me you three saw all this in one night?" Tank asked, envy clear in his voice.
Bulldog confirmed. "Non-stop. Those clowns and carnies were working the crowd like it was their personal playground."
Leaper looked at Fang with hungry eyes. "VP, I want to switch assignments tomorrow night."
"What?"
"I want midway patrol. If there's that much action happening, I want in on it."
"Same here," Diesel said. "Watching empty trailers was boring as shit. I want to see what these freaks are really up to."
Heavy stood up from his chair. "Count me in too. Sounds like the midway is where the real entertainment is."
"Lucky bastards," Crusher muttered. "All I got was college chicks trying to flash me for discounts. I want to switch too."
"Hold on," Fang said, raising a hand. "I'm not just shuffling assignments because you guys are jealous."
"Come on, Fang," Heavy started, but Fang held up a warning finger.
"Don't 'come on' me. We got a job to do, and I'm not shuffling people around because you think the grass is greener somewhere else."
"But" Diesel tried, "if there's really that much action—"
"If there's action, then these three can handle it," Fang snapped. "They did fine tonight, didn't they? Nobody died, nobody got arrested, and we all got paid. That's what matters."
The room fell silent, but I could see the frustration and envy simmering in the other guys' faces. They wanted what we'd described, and Fang shutting them down wasn't going to make that desire go away.
"Look," Fang continued, his tone slightly less harsh, "assignments are assignments for a reason.
We don't know this place yet, and I'm not making changes based on one night.
Everyone stays where they are. Besides, we need the carnies to let their guard down so we can find what we're looking for.
Sure, as shit, the best way to get them antsy is to keep changing people. No. We stay."
Tank nodded in agreement. "Fang's right. We stick with what's working. You three," he pointed at me, Swinger, and Bulldog, "keep documenting everything you see. If this place is as fucked up as you say, we need details."
As the meeting broke up and guys began drifting off to their rooms or back out to the bars, I could hear the muttered complaints and jealous comments. Fang might have shut down the assignment talk for tonight, but I had a feeling this wasn't over.
I finished my beer and headed to my room, knowing that the other guys' jealousy was only going to grow. And eventually, Fang was going to have to deal with it one way or another.
As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I could still hear that haunting carnival music drifting on the wind.
My human side found it almost soothing now, but my gorilla was restless, pacing inside my mind like a caged animal.
I pulled the pillow over my face. How I was going to deal with another night of this, I had no idea.