Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury Page A

leafmould fields, Will glaring at town, Jim staring back at the high nowdarkening banners as the last of the sun hid under the earth.
        'Will, we got to come back. Tonight - '
        'Okay, come back alone.'
        Jim stopped.
        'You wouldn't let me come alone. You're always going to be around, aren't you, Will? To protect me?'
        'Look who needs protection.' Will laughed and then did not laugh again, for Jim was looking at him, the last wild light dying in his mouth, and caught in the thin hollows of his nostrils and in his suddenly deepset eyes.
        'You'll always be with me, huh, Will?'
        Jim simply breathed warm upon him and his blood stirred with the old, the familiar answers: yes, yes, you know it, yes, yes.
        And turning together, they stumbled over a clanking dark mound of leather bag.
     
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    They stood for a long moment over the huge leather bag.
        Almost secretively, Will kicked it. It made the sound of iron indigestion.
        'Why,' said Will, 'that belongs to the lightningrod salesman!'
        Jim slipped his hand through the leather mouth and hefted forth a metal shaft clustered with chimeras, Chinese dragons all fang, eyeball and mossgreen armour, all cross and crescent; every symbol around the world that made men safe, or seemed to, clung there, greaving the boys' hands with odd weight and meaning.
        'Storm never came. But he went.'
        'Where? And why did he leave his bag?'
        They both looked to the carnival where dusk coloured the canvas billows. Shadows ran coolly out to engulf them. People in cars honked home in tired commotions. Boys on skeleton bikes whistled dogs after. Soon night would own the midway while shadows rode the ferris wheel up to cloud the stars.
        'People,' said Jim, 'don't leave their whole life lying around. This is everything that old man owned. Something important - ' Jim breathed soft fire - 'made him forget. So he just walked off and left this here.'
        'What? What's so important you forget everything?'
        'Why - ' Jim examined his friend, curiously, twilight in his face - 'no one can tell you. You find it yourself. Mysteries and mysteries. Storm salesman. Storm salesman's bag. If we don't look now, we might never know.'
        'Jim, in ten minutes - '
        'Sure! Midway'll be dark. Everyone home for dinner. Just us alone. But won't it feel great? Just us! And here we go, back in!'
        Passing the Mirror Maze, they saw two armies - a billion Jims, a billion Wills - collide, melt, vanish. And like those armies, so vanished the real army of people.
        They boys stood alone among the encampments of dusk thinking of all the boys in town sitting down to warm food in bright rooms.
     
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    The redlettered sign said: OUT OF ORDER! KEEP OFF!
        'Sign's been up all day. I don't believe signs,' said Jim.
        They peered in at the, merrygoround which lay under a dry rattle and roar of windtumbled oak trees. Its horses, goats, antelopes, zebras, speared through their spines with brass javelins, hung contorted as in a death rictus, asking mercy with their frightcoloured eyes, seeking revenge with their paniccoloured teeth.
        'Don't look broke to me.'
        Jim ambled across the clanking chain, leaped to a turntable surface vast as the moon, among the frantic but forever spelled beasts.
        'Jim!'
        'Will, this is the only ride we haven't looked at. So. . .'
        Jim swayed. The lunatic carousel world stirred atilt with his lean bulk. He strolled through brass forests amidst animal rousts. He swung astride a plumdusk stallion.
        'Ho, boy, git!'
        A man rose from machinery darkness.
        'Jim!'
        Reaching out from the shadows among the calliope tubes and moonskinned drums the man hoisted Jim yelling out on the air.
        'Help, Will, help!'
        Will leaped through the animals.
        The man smiled easily, welcomed him handily, swung him high