Chapter 57
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
RAVEN
N oah dragged us through the Ferris wheel line a lot. He loved being able to look out across the town and saying everyone looked like little ants. He had even more fun pointing at random people and shouting what their costumes were.
After the fifth ride on the Ferris wheel, Griffin convinced Noah to try bobbing for apples.
From there, we circulated the carnival. We played pumpkin skee ball, which Knox won.
Then a water gun race, which Griffin won.
Then the witch’s hat ring toss, which Noah won.
When Noah got hungry, we made our way over to the food stands where Noah had his first funnel cake. He was immediately addicted.
Kat texted and offered to watch Noah for a bit so the guys and I could enjoy some adult time together. When we dropped him off at the dunk tank, Griffin covered my eyes, shielding me from Benny again. I wasn’t allowed to see until we were walking away.
Now we’re waiting in line for the potion bottle baseball toss. My arm is looped through Griffin’s as my head rests on his shoulder. Knox holds my other hand in his, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.
Releasing a large yawn, my eyes close as my back arches.
Knox nudges me. “Tired?”
“Getting there,” I answer, blinking my eyes. I catch glimpses of a man frantically scanning the people passing him. Standing up straight, I let go of Griffin and Knox, taking a few steps away from them.
“Sunshine?”
“Darlin’?”
I disregard their concern and continue forward. The man wears an oversized unzipped sweatshirt, and his ash blond hair sticks up in every direction, like he’s been uncontrollably pulling at it. When I’m a few feet away, my stomach contracts into a tight ball. “Waylon?”
“Raven, don’t!” Griffin warns from behind me.
Waylon’s caramel eyes fix on me, and I flinch at the ferocity lying within them. He stomps right for me and my instincts have me backing up slowly. Waylon opens his mouth and lets out a chilling rhyme.
This can’t be happening. Lewis is in jail.
“Half a pound of needles and nails.
Half a pound of explosives.
That’s the way the madman creates.
Pop! Goes the weasel.”
Explosives?
My eyes dart around, searching for the implication in the rhyme.
“Keep walking backward toward me,” Knox instructs.
My face pales as a gust of wind opens Waylon’s sweatshirt, revealing what he’s wearing underneath. I find the switch in his hand. “Waylon, this isn’t you. You’ve been drugged. Whatever Dr. Whitlock told you to do, you don’t have to do it.” But just like Seth and Alice, Waylon doesn’t hear me.
“Up and down the streets in town.
In and out the locked door.
That’s the way I get out my cell.
Pop! Goes the weasel.”
A father with his two kids stops in his tracks, eyeing Waylon. Another breeze blows Waylon’s sweatshirt open, and the father catches sight of Waylon’s vest.
The father cries in warning to the rest of the people in the carnival, “He has a bomb!”
Shrieks of fear break out all over the immediate vicinity. Parents grab their children and run as fast as they can.
“Every night as you slumber,
The madman’s out your window.
Take the gun and pop him off.
Pop! Goes the weasel.”
Out my window…Has Lewis been watching me sleep?
“Raven, run! Now!” Griffin demands.
My pulse echoes in my ears as I raise my trembling hands, indicating I mean no harm, but that seems to set Waylon off. His face darkens with a sinister grin.
“A penny for your thoughts he said.
A penny for your children.
That’s the way of the madman.
Pop! Goes the weasel.”
Children…He doesn’t mean to just hurt me.
Turning on my heel, I push my legs in the opposite direction from the frightened people. I can’t lead Waylon to them when he’s wearing a vest strapped with C-4.
Griffin and Knox flank my sides as we weave in and out of vacated booths and carnival games, adrenaline increasing our speed. Waylon’s steps pound through the grass behind us.
My gasped breaths make my lungs burn. “What about Noah?” I shout.
“Benny and Kat will get him out,” Griffin replies. Satisfied with his answer, we head in the direction of the Ferris wheel.
A glance over my shoulder shows me that Waylon is gaining on us. A prickling sensation trickles up my spine, causing me to stumble a step, bringing Waylon closer.
“Raven!” Griffin and Knox shout together; the fear in their voices is evident.
We’re a half a football field away from the back of the carnival when Waylon’s next verse makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“All around the empty streets,
Griffin chased the madman.
Knox thought you were out of harm’s way,
Pop! Goes the weasel.”
As soon as the echo of his last word reaches my ears, I’m thrown forward and off my feet a few yards. Landing flat on my stomach knocks the air out of my lungs. Dirt, pieces of wood, grass, and other debris rain down on the backside of my body.
My ears ring from the blast, and my head spins. But my worry for Knox and Griffin pushes me to lift my gaze to find them. They’re face down in the grass, covered in rubble and groaning from the pain.
Pushing myself up to all fours, I open my mouth to call to them, but a hand covers my lips, and I’m hauled up to my feet.
“You ruined everything,” a masculine voice growls in my ear. A voice I would know anywhere.