Carnival of Death by Carnival of Death (v5.0) (mobi) Page B

Budweiser.
    “Will this do?” he asked, tossing a can in George’s lap.
    “It’ll do,” Earl said. “Let’s go drink us a couple for lunch.”
    “Can’t we just drink it on the way to the carnival?” George asked.
    Earl shook his head. “Can’t risk it. We might get stopped.”
    “I’m going to start mine anyway,” George said. He took a can and snapped it open.
    “Shit,” Earl said.
    He headed out of town and turned off on the first country road he came to, a gravel-topped lane that didn’t lead anywhere of consequence. After he’d gone about half a mile, he pulled off on the shoulder and pointed to a clump of bushes.
    “Let’s go drink over there. Nobody can see us from the road.”
    The others bitched a second or two, but they went. When they were sitting on the ground slurping from their cans, Earl said, “You two still blame me for last night, don’t you?”
    Harry touched his ear. It was red and swollen. “It was your idea.”
    Earl got up and stood behind Harry. He pulled out the pistol. It had been digging into his back the whole time he drove, and he was relieved to have it in his hand.
    “Look what I have,” he said, holding it up for George and Harry to admire.
    “Where’d you get that?” Harry said, turning to look.
    “At the gettin’ place,” Earl said. “Drink your beer.”
    Harry didn’t need any encouragement. He turned back to his drinking.
    “Is it loaded?” George asked.
    “Hell, I don’t know,” Earl said. “Let’s find out.”
    He shot Harry in the back of the head. Harry’s skull came apart in a haze of blood, bone, and greasy hair, a lot of which spattered on George, who dropped his beer and screamed.
    “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
    Earl didn’t approve of screaming, so he shot George right in the center of his forehead. The bullet didn’t make much of a hole going in, but it took a nice-sized chunk out of the back of George’s head.
    “Whose fault was that, asshole?” Earl said.
    He picked up the beer cans. He’d drink the beers and recycle the cans. A friend of the environment, that’s what he was. As for Harry and George, well, they were biodegradable. They’d make good fertilizer for the bushes if nobody found them, or they’d be good food for some scavenger or other. Earl didn’t really give a shit.

    Serena had never liked Ken, and he’d been there in the tent when her darlings had died. He’d done nothing to stop the killing, so he was just as guilty as the rest of them.
    He was also the first person she saw when she came out of her trailer. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt. The knife was hidden in the right-hand sleeve.
    “Hello, Ken,” she said.
    She knew just the kind of voice to use on him. He was a man, after all, and men were stupid. They’d fall for anything, even a come-on from a woman that everybody in the carnival knew didn’t like men in the least.
    “Hi,” Ken said. “I was just coming to check on you. Cap’n Bob wanted to know if you were doing OK and if there was anything he could do for you.”
    “He did?” Serena smiled. “How thoughtful of him.”
    “Yeah,” Ken said. “The cap’n’s a thoughtful guy.”
    “Let’s talk about that, Ken, shall we?”
    “Uh…sure. Why not.” Ken looked back toward the midway. “Seems peaceful enough. Things don’t start hoppin’ until sundown.”
    “That’s right,” Serena said. “Why don’t we step right over here and chat awhile.”
    She led the way between two of the trailers. One of them belonged to the Seven Dwarfs, though there were actually only four of them. They doubled the parts. The other belonged to a couple of freaks, the Alligator Boy and his mother, the World’s Strongest Woman. They’d be busy in their tents and wouldn’t bother anybody.
    Once they were sheltered between the trailers, Serena stood close to Ken and said, “You were telling me how thoughtful Cap’n Bob is.”
    “Yeah. Right. He’s always looking out for us,