Carnival by William W. Johnstone Page B

either of them.
    â€œWhat’s the name of this carnival, boy?”
    Karl had to think about that some. He had a slight hangover from all the long necks he’d consumed the night before. But it’d been fun on the drive back to the ranch from Holland, trying to run over as many dogs and cats as he could; almost wrecked his truck a couple of times trying to squash them. Wouldn’t have made no difference if he had: he had inherited money of his own to buy another one.
    â€œI don’t know,” the young man finally said. “Didn’t see no name. It’s just a carnival.”
    The father shook away some very fleshy and enjoyable mental memories from years past. In a pavilion, he and Jim Watson and those two young gals. Then they’d had a good time with Pete and Frank Tressalt and a whole bunch of other folks—damn near the whole town—horsewhippin’ and shootin’ and finally burnin’ all them carnival people alive. Other memories filled his head: screaming and running and burning human torches. That’d been pretty damn good fun, and it had covered his and Jim’s tracks, too. Them gals had been too scared to open their mouths. As far as them dead people went—carnival trash was all they was—all dead and burned up. Them, and damn near everything and everyone connected with the carnival.
    To Lyle’s way of thinking, it was just too bad that Martin Holland hadn’t burned up with the rest of them. And as far as them carnival people having the insight—as his own daddy had insisted—that wasn’t nothing but a bunch of crap. Nobody had no insight; couldn’t nobody see in the past or in the future. They was all burned up and dead and their ashes scattered. And don’t no dead person ever come back to this earth.
    Lyle had to grin when he thought of that fat lady in that sideshow—what was it called? Yeah, a Ten-in-One. Way she bubbled and crackled and popped and sizzled when the flames got all over her and she couldn’t carry her fat ass and the fire ate her up. His grin widened when he thought about that stupid-lookin’ Dog Man and the way he actually barked as the flames covered him.
    Karl looked at his father, the man he admired most in the whole world. “What you grinnin’ about?”
    â€œOld times and better days, boy.” The father took a closer look at his son. You sure are all duded up. You got you some little gal in town waitin’ for you?”
    Karl grinned. “Don’t I always?”
    â€œShe got a name?”
    â€œMissy Hudson.”
    â€œAin’t she the one who puts out for half the boys in high school?”
    â€œShe was. She ain’t no more. She’s just puttin’ out for me, now.”
    â€œHow old is she?”
    â€œSixteen.”
    â€œThat’s young, boy. And you close to legal age. I bailed you out too many times for you to forget that a stiff dick’ll get you in trouble quicker than a gun.”
    â€œHer folks’d have to charge half a hundred ’fore they ever got to me.”
    â€œThat’s a fact.” He punched his son on the arm.
    He understood, remembering how he was at his son’s age. “I might take me a ride into Holland. Look around some. Is it just a carnival, boy?”
    Lyle never read the Holland weekly. And since he took no interest in anything connected with the town, he seldom paid any attention to anything he heard concerning the town of Holland.
    â€œNo, dad! It’s a big fair. Gonna kick off official next Thursday.”
    That rang a mental bell. It kicked off on a Thursday years back, too. Made Lyle sorta feel funny. He shook that off. “A fair,” the man repeated softly, remembering, despite himself, what his daddy had warned him of, over and over, just before he died. But Lyle hadn’t paid any attention to it then, and he wasn’t going to pay any attention to it now. Lyle didn’t