Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I force myself to wander. Past the bouncy castle, past the funhouse, toward the food stalls. There’s no golden top hat, nothing even resembling it. The carnival grounds are a little dirty, too crowded, and the rides look like they’re rusted-out farm equipment. They’re moving OSHA hazards. That fact that someone hasn’t been seriously maimed yet is a small miracle.
I slow as I skirt around a beer tent. Ahead, down a small alley leading toward the porta potties, I catch sight of something glittering.
Something gold.
I rush after it, hurrying to catch up. The noise quiets down here to a dull roar. Older men walk past, giving me strange looks. I pause near a row of the bathrooms, staring at their locked and latched fronts, trying not to breathe their chemical stink. Was I making it up? Did I really see something gold, or am I just panicking? I’m about to leave when one of the toilets bangs open.
And a man steps out.
He’s in suspenders. White t-shirt. Heavyset like he works out, early forties if I had to guess, graying hair cut close, trim beard.
And a golden top hat glitters on his head.
I stare at him as he walks past, but he doesn’t even glance in my direction.
I follow him away from the toilets. This has to be the guy. I don’t recognize him and have no clue what Burian wants with him, but that doesn’t matter. Now I need to make contact and find the flame car, wherever the heck that might be. Maybe Top Hat will know.
Before we reach the carnival crowds again, I call out. “Excuse me. Hey, you, golden top hat. Excuse me!”
He stops and slowly turns. We’re on the far side of the beer tent. A couple lingers nearby, drinking from plastic cups, talking quietly. The girl looks drunk. The guy does too. They’re leaning on each other, laughing about something. I try to imagine myself doing that with Lanzo, but it seems too normal, like Lanzo can only exist if there’s a threat of physical violence looming.
Top Hat comes closer. “Are you her? Did he send you?” He seems nervous, glancing over his shoulder. His voice is low and trembles somewhat.
“Who?” I ask him, honestly not sure which name he’s going to use.
“Dimitry,” he snaps, looking back at me, eyes narrowing. “Did Dimitry send you?”
“Yes,” I say quickly, backing up a step, heart racing. He’s coming closer, slowly walking toward me to close the distance between us. “He sent me. I’m supposed to—”
Top Hat doesn’t let me finish.
He lunges forward. I yelp, trying to wheel backwards, but he crashes into me and knocks me to the ground. If the drunk couple nearby think this is weird, nobody makes a noise, not that I can hear. My head hits the ground. An ugly grunt escapes my lips and my ears start to ring. I can’t speak—I can’t scream, as Top Hat kneels his bulk down on my chest, pinning me motionless to the concrete.
His hands wrap around my throat.
I gag, trying to fight him off, but he’s huge, way too big, like a mountain crushing me.
“You never should’ve come,” he growls, strangling me to death, his fingers digging into my windpipe. “He knows who you are. He knows what you’re doing. You should’ve run away, you stupid fucking girl. Now I gotta do this, god fucking damn it, and I don’t wanna. But if I don’t, he’s going to kill my partner. You gotta die, you bitch, you gotta die.”
I try clawing his face. The man’s crying, tears streaming down his cheeks, mingling with blood as my nails cut his cheeks. He still doesn’t release me, and soon there’s no strength left in my limbs. Panic surges, crests. Animal terror and instinct takes over. I’m struggling for air, trying to draw something into my chest, but nothing happens.
He’s murdering me. It’s a crazy thought to have while it’s happening. He’s murdering me. I’m getting murdered, right now.
I’m going to die on the ground outside of the toilets at some dumpy carnival.
My vision starts to tunnel. Everything’s black, then it’s white, brightening like film lighting on fire, like a projector gone mad. I can’t feel my hands or my toes anymore. I can’t feel a thing.
This is going to kill Grandpop. Lanzo’s going to lose his mind. My friends are going to sit at my funeral and wonder how I got myself strangled to death by a stranger at a carnival.
All my life’s been one long, empty struggle. I never did anything that felt good. I never had anything worth fighting for.
Now my pathetic, worthless existence is going to end.
Until abruptly, there’s air.
I’m gasping, choking.
Struggling onto my side, rolling away.
I gag, nearly throwing up into a puddle. I pull my knees to my chest, hardly aware of anything except the whoosh of my pounding heart in my ears.