“This place is staffed by weirdos and creeps,” Emily muttered as she watched Simon walk away. It was the understatement of the year.
Cora stood and checked her gear. Good. She didn’t crack her camera when she fell. “He’s right, though. I should probably go get some fresh air.” I can’t stay in here with him. I can’t. He gave her the willies. He was absolutely terrifying.
And he had been inside her goddamn dreams.
No. That wasn’t possible. But then…what had happened? If not the impossible…then what?
“Do you need me to come with you?” Emily put her hand on Cora’s arm.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.” I can’t explain this. To you, myself, or anybody else. I need to sit down, have some water, follow it with some vodka, and think it through. She couldn’t say that, though, so she just smiled gently at her friend and walked away.
There wasn’t any understanding what was happening, but she had one way to find out. One person knew what the fuck was happening. Aaron the carnival Barker had told her to stay away from Simon…and now she knew what he had meant. And he was right.
I bet Aaron has answers. They might be bullshit answers, but they’re something. I’ll take anything at this point.
She struck out of the tent and headed back toward the entrance to find him. When she went to the ticket booth, he was gone.
“If you’re looking for Aaron,” one attendant said, “he’s off by the Freaks, getting ready for the show.” The woman smiled at her sweetly, but her eyes seemed empty. Like all the lights weren’t fully on upstairs. Something about her seemed robotic and flat.
More weird people. More weird things. Add it to the list. “Thanks…” Cora turned and left, showing her ripped ticket to the weird clowns. They checked the date but let her through.
Walking through the Faire by herself gave her a chance to try to clear her head. The chill air was helping. It was still early spring, and as the sun went down, so did the temperature. But she couldn’t stop poring over what had just happened.
And every time she thought about it, she began to panic.
And every time she panicked, she forced herself not to think about it.
And every time she forced herself not to think about it, she thought about it.
And around and around she went.
When she got to the tent for the Freakshow, people were looking at her with the kind of curiosity a person gets when they see someone having a breakdown. She must look as though she were about to throw up, panic, or pass out. She kinda was.
There was a man in my nightmare I didn’t know.
Then he showed up.
Just outside the tent was a box, some three feet square. Standing on it was Aaron, in his blue and cream suit and his matching straw hat. He was talking to a larger woman who was covered in tattoos and had a beard that stretched down to her copious cleavage. Both beard and boobs were proudly on display. The two were chatting idly, and both went quiet as Cora walked up.
“Are you all right, Cora?” Aaron’s brow furrowed in concern. As though he cared. He hopped down from the box and reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. She stepped away from him, shaking her head. They weren’t friends. He put his hand down. “What’s wrong?”
“How? How is this happening?” She felt like she was on the verge of a breakdown. “It’s not possible. That freak shouldn’t be real, but he—” She broke off and glanced to the woman, feeling her cheeks go warm. “I’m sorry.”
“None taken, sweetheart.” The bearded woman smiled. “We’re all freaks here. I just wear mine on the outside.”
Aaron sniffed and looked off. “You saw Simon, huh?”
“He was—” Cora paused and cringed. “I’m going to sound insane. But all of this is insane, and all of it’s your fault.”
“Whoa!” Aaron looked back at her and put his hands up. “I didn’t do shit.”
“You told me to go through that stupid dark path thing—”
“I said you could. I gave you the option. I told you exactly what was going to happen.” He pointed a finger at her. “I warned you, and now you’re mad that you didn’t listen. You didn’t believe a word I said, and thought it was all bullshit. That’s not my fault.”
“It is bullshit.” She was shaking again. She fidgeted with the strap of her camera, trying to focus on something—anything—that wasn’t the reality she was in. Tears welled in her eyes. “It has to be.”
“Or what?”
Cora looked up at Aaron. “Huh?”
“It has to be bullshit, or what? What if it isn’t?” His defensive anger faded. “Oh, poor thing. You look like you’re about to snap. Bertha, baby, can she go in and take a sit?”
“Of course.” Bertha gestured for Cora to follow her. “Come with me, sweetheart. I’ll get you a glass of water and something stronger to chase it with. If you had a run-in with the Puppeteer, you need it.”
That was exactly what she needed. She nodded weakly and followed the tattooed woman. She didn’t know them. She didn’t trust them. But she didn’t know what else to do. She followed Bertha into the tent, with Aaron following them. There was a narrow hallway inside with a large painted finger pointing to the left. Instead, Bertha lifted a flap of the fabric hallway and ushered her in to the right.
It looked like backstage. Boxes of props, cages containing a few random animals, and a few other people walking around. She noticed a man about was two feet tall but who looked fully grown. Another man was covered in hair over every inch of his body. There was a woman with three boobs. She tried not to stare and instead looked down at her feet.
“It’s fine, Cora.” Bertha laughed. “Staring is expected. You’re not going to throw things or call us names, are you? You don’t think we’re monsters, right?”
“Of course not.” She looked back up at the woman, shocked she would think that. “Can’t help how you were born.”
Bertha smiled warmly and patted a hand on Cora’s shoulder. The woman felt incredibly strong. “Then stare all you want. We’re weird-looking. There’s no helping it, and we’ve decided to use it to our advantage. It’s our choice. It’s how we make a living. Now, come on.” She walked away, and Cora could do nothing but follow. Bertha led her farther backstage, until she got to something that looked like a dressing room. She gestured for Cora to sit on a bench by the wall.
She hadn’t realized how shaky she really was until she sat. Her legs almost gave out the moment she started to bend them. She felt woozy. Aaron sat next to her but kept a respectful distance.
Bertha returned a moment later with two bottles—one of water, and another of gin. She handed Cora the bottle of water. It was glass, with one of those flip-top seals on the top. Weird. Maybe they were trying to be environmentally friendly and not use plastic.
“Thanks…” She flipped the top and took a sip. God, it tasted good. Underrated thing, water.
“Anytime.” Bertha pulled over a chair across from them and sat with a grunt. “Barker, no hats inside.” Bertha leaned forward and flicked the brim of his hat. Aaron took it off but grumbled about it quietly. “So,” the bearded and tattooed woman began again, “what happened, sweetheart? Start from the beginning. Or, well, after Barker here talked you into going through the Dark Path.”