Carnival of Death Read Free

landed near the girl, and she’d somehow gotten hold of it. She swung it back and forth, whacking the other boy across the face. Blood flew from his nose and smashed lips as Matt watched.
    Matt took hold of the boy’s shirt and pulled him away from her before she brain-damaged him. The boy was as limp as boiled pasta. Matt tossed him aside.
    “I’ll take my cap,” he said, putting out his hand.
    The girl dropped it and covered her breasts with her arm. “I need to get dressed.”
    Matt nodded and picked up his cap. There were splotches of blood on it, so he stuck it in the pocket with the tent stake and turned his back so the girl could cover up while he thought about what he was going to do. One thing Cap’n Bob had insisted when he hired Matt was that the cops should never be called.
    “We handle our own problems,” the cap’n had said.
    He was a portly man with a seemingly sincere smile that invited trust. For some reason, Matt didn’t find it effective. There was something about the cap’n that bothered him, but not enough to keep him from taking the job.
    “The cops are not our friends,” Cap’n Bob had continued. “We take care of our troubles on our own and in our own way. We don’t want anybody meddling in our business. Especially cops.”
    That was fine by Matt. The carnies were a little strange, most of them, but certainly no more strange than Matt himself. Like Matt, a lot of them had secrets, and they knew how to keep them. In fact, Matt hadn’t even told Cap’n Bob his real name. He’d said he was Matt Axton and that he’d like to be paid in cash. Cap’n Bob had no problem with that.
    Some secrets were easier to keep than others, however. Attempted rape was serious business, and Matt didn’t like the idea of letting the three kids off the hook.
    “You can turn around now.”
    Matt turned and saw that the girl had put on her pants and shirt. She looked about fifteen, but she was probably older, seventeen or eighteen maybe. Matt had trouble judging the age of anybody under thirty.
    “What’s your name?” he asked.
    “Sue Jean. I want to get out of here.”
    Matt looked at the three young men who’d attacked her. The one whose ear she’d almost removed was still lying curled up on his side, but he’d stopped whining. The one who’d been whacked across the face with the sap cap was making snuffling sounds as he tried to crawl away. The one with the cracked wrist sat cradling his arm and glaring at Matt.
    Three teenage punks who’d thought they could get away with something, Matt thought. He still didn’t see any signs of corruption on them. He also didn’t see any sign of whoever had handed him the tent stake. Where the hell had he gone? There wasn’t anyplace to go. No time to worry about it. Right now Matt had other problems.
    “You think we should call an ambulance?” Matt asked. “Or the cops?”
    “I don’t care who you call, but I’m not staying here,” Sue Jean told him. “I need to get away from this place. That old woman told me to. I should’ve listened to her. Then this wouldn’t have happened.”
    “What old woman?”
    “That fortune-teller, whatever her name is. She told me to leave, but I had to have a snow cone.”
    Maybe those rumors Matt had heard were true, but he couldn’t keep from grinning. Madame Zora wouldn’t appreciate being called an old woman.
    Sue Jean started walking.
    “Hold on,” Matt said. “Don’t you want to press charges against these three?”
    Sue Jean didn’t slow down. “I don’t care about them. They didn’t hurt me.”
    Matt started after her. If she didn’t care, maybe he shouldn’t care. Cap’n Bob almost certainly wouldn’t, not as long as the culprits had suffered some damage. Which they had. Matt still thought he should try.
    When he caught up with Sue Jean, he said, “Do you know who those guys are?”
    “Assholes.”
    “Yeah, I figured that out for myself. But I meant aside from that.”
    “I know who they