Mike saw how some thickening was slowly moving in her intestines, and convulsively bent over a board in a spasm of vomiting. The car jerked and rolled further, without giving him time to finish. The young man tightly shut his eyes and promised himself again, now even more definitely, not to open them until they get outside.
And he honestly kept the promise even when from the right a disgusting smell of burned meat stank (the terrible heartrending groans couldn’t muffle the hissing of fat dripping in fire, and Mike felt close heat by his cheek) as well as when on the left children—four or five simultaneously—began to squeal stridently. But when Jane cried “No! No! Stop!” he nevertheless opened his eyes.
This time the victim was neither at the left nor at the right. He lay directly on the rails. A very young fellow—about seven years younger than Mike. His hands and feet were buried in two massive concrete cubes on both sides of the track, and the car was just about to roll its wheels over his stomach and chest. The bleeding furrows indented into the boy’s flesh indicated this would not be the first time a car ran over him. Of course, a carnival ride car is not a railway car and not even a road vehicle, so it improbably weighed more than five hundred pounds together with the passengers—but that was also not so little, especially when it rolled over already broken bones and unprotected crushed belly…
The boy raised his head and looked at the car with muddy pained eyes in which useless entreaty was read. Naturally, they had no opportunity to stop. Jane shouted once again “Stop it!” but at the next moment they felt a slight jolt, and under the wheels it disgustingly crunched and squished. The guy screamed—in a thin, absolutely childish voice. They were not just spectators anymore—now, although involuntarily, they became accomplices…
Fortunately, ahead the exit appeared. This time, seemingly, it was the real one—daylight loomed from there. Yes, the gates of the cave were opening to set them free…
But at this moment chains clanged again, and something fell from above. It fell and waggled on chains ahead of them, blocking the way.
It was a girl. More precisely, part of a girl. Mike’s gaze slid down her body—from her wrists pierced through by meat hooks, to her face, suffused with tears and framed with sweat-stuck curly locks, but still beautiful, to her dirty bra, and below… below she was not even cut but torn in half. From the bottom ribs a long tatter of skin and shreds of exfoliated meat hung down, and between them was the wet sack of her stomach, similar to a deflated balloon, drawn down by the heavy tangle of her guts. Below it there was nothing at all. And the car was just about to stick its nose in this tangle and then the passengers would have to literally nuzzle into what was above…
But at this moment the car braked hard. Mike and Jane swayed forward; their faces appeared in just two feet from the torn girl.
Her eyelids rose and the bitten lips moved.
“Please”… she whispered. “Help me…”
“How?” Mike squeezed out from himself.
“Kill me…”
“How?” the young man repeated, looking around in embarrassment. But she either couldn’t speak more or didn’t know the answer. The car started again, but at the same moment the chains rapidly dragged the victim up into the darkness. Her dangling guts missed Jane’s face only by inches.
And several seconds later the car rolled out of the cave under the sky of cloudy day, quickly passed along the cave’s forward wall and finally stopped.
There was nobody around—neither near the platform nor at the cash booth. There were no new visitors and even the mustached “coffin maker” was absent. Probably he appeared (from where?) only when new clients approached. The safety bar automatically clicked, opening.
Jane stepped out to the platform the first. Mike initially remained in his seat, believing that it was necessary to wait for the worker, but then followed his girlfriend.
Clouds were crawling on the low sky. A gush of cold wind tousled grass, dragged trash over it—a paper cup, a torn plastic bag… some gray piece of paper, too—probably a used ticket. There was still not a single living being around and there was no sound, not even from the “cave” behind them. Jane stood motionless.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mike said almost dragging her to the path through bushes. In his mouth the sour taste of puke still remained.
“Do you… you think what I think?” the girl asked while they were winding among prickly thickets.
“It can’t be real!” Mike exclaimed. “Skillfully made dummies with motors… yes, very skillfully, I’ve never seen anything like… for a moment I did believe…” considering the vomited lunch, to deny the last would be silly.
“Dummies?! Did you see their faces? Their eyes and everything else?”
“Well, probably, some are dummies, and some are live actors…”
“Actors, sure. Well, blood, ripped skin, screws, the stake—all right, all are makeup and special effects. But the chopped-off limbs? How can you fake that?”
“Mirrors. Especially since it was dark there. We saw only what was illuminated.”
“And the last one? We passed directly under her! There were no mirrors there—nothing that would make it possible to hide the bottom half of a woman!”
“Listen”, Mike stopped and turned to Jane. “Even assuming that they really do such things in front of lots of witnesses… do you think that anyone can live after being torn in half? Unless he’s an earthworm, of course…”
“That’s not funny.”
“And I’m not laughing. I don’t know how this trick was done, but…”
“Well…” murmured Jane after a pause, “of course, yes… it must be some trick… but… it was so real…”
“I told you—we shouldn’t have gone in there,” Mike muttered. “Now we may have nightmares about it…”
They finally got out of the thickets. No one was visible here either. But once they passed the toilets, a door slapped open behind them.
At another time, Mike wouldn’t have looked at the person leaving such a place, but now he shuddered and rapidly turned back.
In front of the booths the clown stood. The same one, with the drawn red smile. He stood motionless and silent, looking at them.
Certainly, there was no reason to stop and it would be more logical just to continue on their way, but Mike suddenly stepped forward.
“And?” he aggressively inquired. “What?”
The clown kept his silence and didn’t move. In Mike’s mind flashed the foolish thought that he was a dummy, too.
“What are you staring at?” Mike raised his tone and moved ahead with the look of a person ready to fight—though actually he never was combative. Jane turned back, too, stepped after him and grabbed his elbow to prevent a scrap.
The clown with the sudden gesture of a magician took out from nowhere a small notebook and offered it to the girl.