“No. I’m out of here.” Cora pushed up from the ground and wavered, but finally managed to stay standing. “Screw this. Screw all of this!”
Jack reached for her. “Cora—”
“Go fuck one of the carousel horses!” She shoved his hand away from her. “I’m not doing this. I’m not.”
As she walked away, she heard them talking behind her.
“You’re just going to let her go?”
“She’ll figure it out soon enough.”
“You really are an asshole, Aaron.”
“That ain’t news, Jackie. That ain’t news to anybody.”
19
Cora staggered her way through the carnival. She felt weak. She felt like she’d been in a car accident. She needed to get out. She needed to get to her car. There were psychopathic, undead serial killers after her. People around her cleared out of her way, thinking she was either drunk, or sick, or crazy.
She felt like a mix of all three.
Her phone was missing. Great. She wanted to call 911. She wanted to call her friends. But she did have her car keys, and that was the important part.
It was on the main drag that she found someone she recognized. He was walking out of the Strongman’s tent with a broad smile plastered all over his face. Hope and relief blossomed in her. Suddenly, there was a chance again. It was Trent!
“Oh, thank God! Thank God you’re okay.” She raced to her friend and grabbed his arms. “We have to go. We have to get out of here! They’re all murderous freaks. This place is trying to kill you. I don’t know how to explain, but we need to—”
“Holy shit, lady! Get off me!” Trent shoved her back, sending her sprawling painfully to the pavement as he caught her by surprise. He was staring at her wild-eyed in a panic, his hands up. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking weirdo?”
“Trent, what’re you talking about?” She stood, brushing the gravel off where it clung to her hands. “They tried to kill me. They tried to kill you, too! I came here to try to save you, but—”
“Whoa, how do you know my name?” He took a step back. “Stay the hell away from me, you psychopath!”
“Trent, it’s me, Cora.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know a Cora, lady. I don’t know you.”
She stood there, stunned, staring at her friend in dumbfounded horror. Maybe she had died. Maybe this was a nightmare. None of it made any sense. She wanted to cry. She tried to stop the tears, but they came anyway. She’d been through too much.
There had been so much hope in her heart at seeing him, and now it all felt ripped away. And she didn’t know why. “Trent, now’s not the time to play games with me. We need to get out of here, please.”
“Then go.” He pointed toward the exit gate. “I don’t fucking know you. And I don’t know anybody named Cora. Now get away from me before I call the cops for assault.” He hurried away from her. “Bitch.”
“Trent!” she cried and went to follow him. A massive hand caught her upper arm and pulled her back, leaving her to watch her friend beat a hasty retreat.
“Please don’t bother.”
Terrified that it was either Ringmaster or, worse, Simon, she looked up at who had spoken. The voice was low, rough, and gravelly. It was the Strongman, Ludwig. He was looking down at her with nothing but kindness, sorrow, and regret.
“Let me go.” She yanked her arm out of his grasp and knew it was because he had allowed it. He was too big and too strong, otherwise.
“He won’t know you. None of them will. Not anymore. You’re not real anymore. Not like you were. Not in their world. Cora Glass doesn’t exist anymore. Not to them.” His voice was as deep and broad as he was. “Only here. Only to us.”
She shook her head and took another halting step away from him. “You’re lying. This is all just a stupid prank. Now you have Trent in on it. I don’t—I don’t know what’s happening.” She wiped at her face. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t know why she bothered wiping them away, because more were eagerly replacing them. Panic was welling in her like bees, and the sound of the swarm was starting to drown everything else out.
Ludwig hung his head and shook it sadly, as if he were standing at the grave of someone whose death he couldn’t prevent. He turned around and walked away without another word and back into his tent, disappearing into the shadows.
Enough was enough. She’d get home, call the cops on her landline once she was safe, and sort all this bullshit out. Magic might be real, but maybe she could shut this place down. Get them to put cement barriers around it. And Trent was going to get an earful from her when she cornered him for playing along with this terrible prank. Or whatever the fuck was happening.
She made her way to the exit gate. It led straight back into the parking lot. Every step brought her closer to her car and to safety. She was half-running. But she could see her freedom, just there. Hope was starting to blossom again in her heart.
Right when she ran into a wall.
She grabbed her face and howled in pain. Looking down at her palm, she saw blood. Great. A bloody nose. That was all she needed! But what had she hit? Nothing had been there.
She looked up and, sure enough, empty air was right in front of her. Empty air that people were walking through without a problem. Two people in clown outfits stood on either side of the gate, making sure nobody snuck in. She couldn’t see their faces through their freaky vintage masks, but she knew they were both looking at her.
She reached out to the empty air.
And pressed her palm against a wall that she couldn’t see.
It was like a barrier had somehow appeared in front of her. But one that other people could walk through without a problem. She ran her hand along the surface, trying to find a gap or a seam. But there wasn’t anything she could find.
“Nice job, mime. Where’s your makeup?” some asshole shot at her as he walked into the parking lot. He walked right through the space where she had just tried to find a hole in the barrier that was keeping her in.
She was too busy having a panic attack to care about his stupid remark. Her nose was still bleeding, and she reached into her pocket to find a scrap of a napkin and pressed it to her face with one hand, as she searched desperately for a hole with the other.
Nothing.
Now she was sobbing. She threw her shoulder into the barrier, but it didn’t budge. She smashed into whatever it was again, and again. It didn’t budge. She wailed and threw herself at it. “Let me out!”
People were giving her a huge clearance as they tried to avoid her. She was acting insane, after all. But she was bashing herself into something that didn’t exist. “Please, somebody help me, please!”
“Neat trick.”
“Wow, what’s her problem?”
“How’s she doing that?”
It all blurred together. She was too busy trying to break down whatever it was that was holding her back from freedom.
How long it went on, she didn’t know. When she was panting too hard to continue, she collapsed to her knees. Her hands were sore. Her shoulder was sore. She had been bashing herself against nothing, and “nothing” really didn’t want to move. At least her nose had stopped bleeding. That was fast. Small favors.