“Wouldn’t Red call out?” Vella replied. “Come on,” she said pulling me again.
We ran between the booths and made our way to the gate. As we snuck through the fairground, we saw lots of people standing around in the fog. That was the odd thing. They were just standing there: not moving, not talking, just standing there. Every muscle in my body was pulled tight. They weren’t thieves. They were something else.
Just as we turned the corner near the high striker at the west gate, we ran into Beau.
“Beau. You alright? There are people all over the grounds. Something weird is goin’ on,” I said.
Vella took two steps back. Puck uttered a growl, showing his teeth.
Beau, who had been standing with his back to me, turned. His face had gone pale white. A strange frothy saliva leaked from his mouth. His chin was covered in blood, and his white t-shirt was also stained red. His eyes were a terrible milk-white color and red shot all through them like you see sometimes in an over-developed egg yolk. I nearly gagged. Beau hissed and then lunged toward me.
“Cricket, look out!” Vella screamed.
I ducked just in time. Beau stumbled over the machine and fell. He got up, slowly, and came at me again. I swiped him across the chin with the pipe wrench. His chin broke and hung slack. He looked at me and lunged again.
Puck jumped between us and growled, momentarily confusing Beau. I lifted the wrench again just in time to see Vella lift the high striker mallet and lower it with a boom onto Beau’s head. His head cracked open and blood ran from his skull and ears.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, my hands shaking.
“Let’s go,” Vella said and we ran toward the gate.
We bolted out of the gate and into the parking lot. I was headed toward my truck when Vella called to me. “No, Cricket, look. There’s no time,” she yelled. She was pointing back at the park. Ambling down the aisle toward the gate were at least a dozen people, all carnie folks we knew, who looked to be in the same condition as Beau. Red was at the front. Blood was smeared across his face. Every one of them looked like they were aiming to kill us. From somewhere in the park I heard a woman scream. It sounded like Mrs. Chapman.
“But the tilt!” I called back.
“No, you’ll never make it!” Vella called. “Come on.”
We both rushed toward her old Ford Bronco sitting just near the gate. Vella slid into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. Puck and I jumped in. Vella hit the gas, heading toward the fairground exit.
Mama Rosie was parked just inside when we came down to the road. Vella pulled up beside her.
“We’ve gotta get out of here, Mama. The flu got everyone and they are all wild, trying to bite, and I don’t know what. Christ, Beau tried to kill me. Look in your mirror. We’ve got to haul it,” I told her.
I saw Mama Rosie look back to see the deranged looking crew rushing after us. “Oh my lord, let’s go,” she called.
We sped off.
The fairground was located just outside of town. We headed down one of the main streets. I turned on the radio. There was only one station broadcasting and it was playing a recording of cities now under quarantine.
“What the hell is goin’ on?” I said, my eyes tearing up.
“The Tower,” Vella replied. She reached across the truck and opened the glove box, pulling out a map. “We need to get to the interstate,” she said, handing the map to me.
I opened the map and quickly took a look. As we drove, I noticed a couple of cars had pulled over on the side of the road. It looked like people were sleeping inside. I scanned the map and found our location. “Left at the next turn,” I told her. “It’ll take us up to the ramp.”
I set the map down and looked out. There was a car on fire on the road ahead of us. Vella slowed to pass it. In the cow pasture nearby were two figures, a woman and a child, walking slowly.
“You think they’re alright? You think they need help?” I asked Vella.
Vella just stared at them.
I rolled down my window. “Hey, ya’ll okay?” I called.
They turned and looked at us. They too had that strange, sick look, their mouths foaming. They ran toward us.
“Mother Mary,” I whispered.
Vella took off.
I looked back to see that they had run up to the side of Mama Rose’s van, but she was able to pull safely by.
We drove down the road. It took us almost half an hour to get to the interstate on-ramp. When we got there, we found it was completely jammed.
“What do we do now?” Vella asked.
I could see people sitting in their cars: men, women, children. Some men were standing outside their vehicles talking. Many of them were armed. Inside the large SUVS, small T.V. screens played cartoon movies, keeping kids otherwise frightened out of their wits calm. In the distance, I heard gun shots. “We gotta take the back roads,” I told Vella.
“To where?”