While the smell of popcorn, Chinese food, funnel cakes, and fried sausage still filled the air, there was no one around. Power was still on, so the midway still sparkled in a rainbow of light, but the place was like a ghost town. I had never seen it like that, and since I’d practically grown up in the carnival, that was saying something. Several game booth agents had even left their plush still hanging—now that was odd.
As Mama and I passed by Iago’s Traveling Torture show, I winced to see Mr. Iago coming out. After three years of traveling with Great Explorations carnival, I had yet to warm up to Mr. Iago. His show was creepy. I’d once had a look inside. The place was hung with all kinds of pictures of people being tortured, and he had old torture devices like the rack, an iron maiden, a wheel of fortune, and other small harmful contraptions. Mr. Iago was as creepy as his show. On the outside he looked normal enough, just a funny-looking little bald man with too big-ears and a pointed nose, but it was what I felt coming from inside him that set me on edge. I never looked him in the eye.
“Mama Rosie, Cricket,” he called politely.
“You headed back too, Mr. Iago?” Mama called cheerfully.
“Yes, Ma’am, I am,” he replied politely.
“You make any scratch today?” Mama asked him.
“Well, I don’t like to discuss finances,” he told her in his quiet manner.
“He don’t like to discuss finances,” Mama said mockingly to me. “Alright, Mr. Iago. You just go on with yourself then.”
“No offense, Mama Rosie,” he replied quietly.
“Of course not,” she replied and rolled her eyes at me.
When we got back to the bunk houses there were half a dozen people sitting outside at a picnic table listening to the radio. I spotted Mr. and Mrs. Chapman. They owned three of the grab joints; Mrs. Chapman waved to us. She was a biblical woman whose savory homemade corn dog breading had won top prize at a competition last year. If you didn’t mind hearing her recite verse all day, she was fine to be around. Red and Neil, two ride jockeys, were there as well. Red ran Big Eli; Neil ran the swings. The resident lot lizard, Cici, was snuggled up to Ned. I was surprised to also see Vella there. Vella, the Tarot reader, was a Romanian immigrant who called herself the only authentic Roma, which she said meant gypsy, in America. Even though she was just a little older than me, Vella scared me. She’d never done anything to me and was really nice, but she scared me all the same. The others said she was dead-on accurate with her readings and often had bad news to give. I didn’t want to be around anything like that.
“What’s on the news?” Mama Rosie asked.
“Lord, help us! This flu is something else. They have quarantined almost every city on the west coast: LA, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco . . . you name it. They got the national guard on the highways keeping people out,” Mrs. Chapman said.
She was quiet then, and we listened: “And inside Portland Central Hospital, military personnel have opened fire on seemingly rabid patients,” a female reporter was saying. “Reports from the scene indicate that a riot broke out at the hospital when patients, suffering from side-effects of what now seems to be a pandemic flu, began to attack other hospital patients and employees. CDC officials have confirmed that increased violence appears to be associated with the afflicted and continue to advise everyone to avoid direct physical contact with those with the illness. Martial law has been instituted in all major west coast cities and cities across the south. Cities across the north-east and central US have issued curfew and encouraged businesses to close their doors until the illness is contained. As a result, there have been reports of runs on banks, grocery stores, and fueling stations.”
“What are they sayin’ on T.V.?” I asked.
Red shook his head. “We can’t get a signal in. No one’s dishes are working.”
“President was on. Told everyone to be calm,” Cici said.
“Easy for him to say. They probably got him stashed in a bunker somewhere,” Mr. Chapman replied.
“Highways are gonna be backed up. And nobody’s gonna be interested in a fair, not in Bowling Green and not in Cincinnati. But I bet if we don’t jump, Marx is gonna stiff us,” I told the others.
They nodded.
“Well, if ya’ll give me a hand I’ll pay back the favor,” I told Red and Neil.
“No problem, Cricket. You see Beau around?”
I shook my head. “I just came lookin’ for him.”
“He’s sick,” Vella said. She rarely spoke, so when she did, we all turned to her. “Leave him be,” she added.
I had noticed Vella had been shuffling her cards the whole time we’d been listening to the radio. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“What do the cards say about this flu, Vella? Should we hit the road? Stay put?” Mama Rosie asked.
“Devil’s work,” Mrs. Chapman whispered under her breath.
“They say the same thing over and over again—the Tower,” she said and laid out a card for us to see.